HopeNOW's comments

Escaping the Trap of the Narcissistic Mother

24 Sep 2008 09:49 AM

Dear Julibeth and Beth,

Thank you both so much. I felt dreadfully selfish for writing so much, but then I thought that you all may want to see that there is HOPE if you get good therapy, like with wonderful Beth, and keep searching. Nothing I ever did was good enough for my mother, and as you can see, I have done PLENTY! I truly believe in my heart that until I sacrificed my LIFE for that woman it would never have been enough. Now I know that is a myth I bought into. I recommend an excellent book I just finished, called "The Wizard of Oz and other Narcissists." It really helped me start to heal. But the essential message in the book and in so many other works and websites is that confronting the narcissist, like when Dorothy ventured behind the screen and saw that the WIZARD was just a small and pathetic man, is the answer. Beth was the first person who has said that this must be weighed carefully. This is especially essential, I believe, with the elderly parent who has Alzheimer's or dementia, as in my case. Confronting my mother at this point would only throw her into a meltdown and would accomplish nothing for me. I believe that by lovingly NOT confronting her in person, but doing so in writing and by seeking effective therapy, I can confront what she did to me without literally KILLING HER-which is not my intention for all of my stated acrimony. I have to get past this-but I don't have to ruin or kill my mother: that is her tactic not mine. On the other hand, I will not subject myself to her personally or on the phone again. The game is over for her: checkmate.

But, interestingly, because of my newly empowered VIEWPOINT, my mother has truly shrunken down to the size of a small and brittle plastic action figure sitting on a shelf, and I am not afraid of her any longer. Today, I am metaphorically "putting her in a drawer" in my memory and really moving on. I will, however, continue working with Beth online until I am sure that I am being totally authentic and that I am really free. But I know I am getting there and it feels great.

I used to wake up every day before my mother moved in with us in February and have this panicked feeling in my chest dreading when the phone would ring. Now I don't, and it is the most wonderful feeling about this whole thing. Yesterday, I was singing-absolutely singing, "My DAY WILL COME," or something like that. I didn't even notice until my husband told me, smiling.

To the world my mother was a saint-an opera singer, who sacrificed everything to stay home and raise her four children-living in mansions and having everything she ever wanted-which to her was NEVER FOR HER. It is almost ludicrous now thinking about it. But she almost killed me, and for the thirty years I suffered with bulimia in silence, I only ventured into therapy one hour-and it was horrendous. I had told the female doctor, a skinny and tiny Army psychiatrist who didn't even speak English sufficiently, that my father took Resperine in the 1950s and for him it caused suicidal thoughts and a nearly lethal attempt. When she was done staring at me and shaking her head, all she said was, "I am prescribing Resperine for you now."

I ran out of her office crying and never told anyone. Every other time I mentioned therapy casually, my mother would launch her diatribe that THOSE FOOLS almost killed your father-they are destructive; they know nothing; they plant lies in their patients heads; they only want their patients to blame their poor parents; and on and on. I think for myself and perhaps a lot of you, our narcissistic mothers may have planted THOSE lies into our heads so they could keep us weak and sick. Please, don't believe that myth. I realize now that had I not been debilitated by my fear and low self-esteem, I should have gone to another doctor seeking help immediately; but it was too embarrassing for me-as many of you know most bulimics will DIE keeping their secret. For those of you who are suffering clinical effects from your narcissistic mothers, please keep searching for help. For me, finding Beth was a miracle since I can converse with her online, and she instantly made me feel safe and loved and placed me in a trusting environment where I can heal. If this is not an option for you who are suffering so profoundly, keep looking and talking. It is the only way out. I wish you all love...and you know you have my understanding!

Defending Yourself against the Aging Narcissist (2)

23 Sep 2008 04:20 PM

Beth,

Just wanted to say again that your articles and your online counseling are really helping me deal with my narcissistic mother who also has Alzheimer's--and by dealing with I mean DETACHING and trying to release the guilt and fear that were inherent in our relationship (my side). Since I have so much personal experience with this terrible disorder, which seems to be exponentially increased with Alzheimer's, I would like to make a few comments and ask you a question.

I love what you say about trying to realize the horrendous behavior of the aging narcissist is because they are SICK; dealing with this on a daily in-house situation as a caregiver is debilitating, however. Perhaps many can achieve this separation; it was impossible for me, Beth; and as you know my mother was placed in assisted living and I have not seen her for six weeks and will probably choose never to see her again because of her unremitting abuse.

My question is this and I feel you are uniquely qualified to answer this: when the aging parent has true DSM-IV Narcissitic Personality Disorder and then gets Alzheimer's (which is quite common with this disorder I understand), is it possible or even wise to attempt in-house caregiving? I was convinced that my mother would one day soon be waiting around the corner in her room with scissors and try to kill me. I am not paranoid either. It was that bad.

Just curious about your professional opinion when NPD escalates because of dementia or Alzheimer's. I know a lot of others would be interested in your response, and I know it is an individual thing--but I am very interested. In particular, since the NPD parent cannot tolerate being confronted, when they also have Alzheimer's and cannot be cared for any longer by an adult child who places them in assisted living or a nursing home, this is considered betrayal by the NPD parent. ALWAYS--and thus their destructive behaviors escalate. I guess I answered my own question here...but your views on NPD with dementia or Alzheimer's would be most appreciated. Thank you.

Escaping the Trap of the Narcissistic Mother

23 Sep 2008 01:54 PM

Dear Beth, DarSC, RoughJourney, Epiphany, and others...

First I should say that I am working online with Beth concerning this very issue, and she has been incredibly helpful already. Beth, you are gifted in therapeutic technique and knowledge, and I am most grateful. Finding this forum is just wonderful. When you have been raised by an NPD mother, the need to vent and get it out is strong. Thank you.

I am 59 years old, and until this last two weeks or so, I was TERRIFIED of my 85-year old mother. Like so many of you, I am what the world considers a great success: two Ph.D.s., steady marriage of over 38 years, two adult children--a daughter who is so happily married and pregnant for the first time and a son who is at Princeton. And, they are both HAPPY and free. I am charitable, hard-working, pleasant, brilliant, and totally damaged and ruined--until recently that is. I spent 30 years bulimic, throwing up my guts numerous times every day, some days ten times. I pleased everyone in my life except myself, but this all ended (or so I thought) ten years ago when my rocket scientist of a father died suddenly, and I faced my own mortality. I stopped throwing up one day and never vomited again. Of course it was not that easy, but I did it after years and years of trying. But I never told anyone I threw up and I never told anyone that I stopped (until several years ago, that is). I then slowly gained a lot of weight (more from menopause than stopping an eating disorder) and then slowly lost it. Two years ago at 57, I was in perfect shape, and I thought I was restored and full of life--I was deluding myself.

Since the time of my father's death in 1999, my NPD mother, like so many of you write about, went totally unchecked and her vicious swath extended from Arizona to New York State, through her daily eviscerating phone calls to deride me or blame me for her DIFFICULT LIFE and all of her PROBLEMS and her constant HEALTH COMPLAINTS. In truth she lived in a huge paid-for house with a big pool, had a maid, and millions. I have a Ph.D. in finance and wanted to help her--to be LOVING. MY father left over three million dollars, and my NPD mother systematically squandered it on my two brothers (and yes, there were not ever treated like I was or my sister). She sold her big house and bought a smaller one, and gave my brother the difference. When I would try to stop her from throwing her money away on my brothers who NEVER earned much money, I was called selfish and nasty and incapable of loving my siblings since I couldn't share my MOMMY!--her words.

It was a nightmare. My husband was quite emotionally distant and very moody and hard to live with for most of our marriage, but he has changed. He changed this year when all hell broke loose with my mother, and he finally saw that if he didn't help me, I would die from her abuse. It all started in January (or escalated, I should say) when my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and begged me to come to Arizona to get her and SAVE her since my brother was throwing her away and STEALING HER MONEY AND HER HOUSE--good trick since the money is gone. But the house is still there--in the terrible housing market as it will not sell.

My mother lived with us in New York from February until August, when in an uncharacteristic act of bravery, I had her placed in the most beautiful assisted living facility I have ever seen. I did this to help my mother, truly, since she needed the companionship of people her own age and structured care-and I did it to save my own life, as I know I was about to have a stroke or a heart attack, and I am not exaggerating. I have not seen her or talked to her since. I do pay a private aide to check on her and to acclimate her, but I cannot see her again. She is telling everyone at the gorgeous place that I am evil, I betrayed her, I threw her away, and I did this to steal her money. I live in a small town and everyone knows me. But I am not embarrassed, I was SCARED. She even called Adult Protective Services on me and told them that I had abused her and stuck her there (in a gorgeous apartment with her little Maltese dogs and some of my Persian rugs and cherry furniture in total splendor overlooking a meadow and woods)-since I was so abusive. I was literally crumbing on the floor and crying nonstop and afraid to leave my house. This is how I found Beth, thank GOD. I was desperate for a way to alleviate my great guilt and terror. I actually asked Beth to grant me PERMISSION never to have to see my mother again. I have honestly said things like, "I will only be happy after that horrible woman dies."

Now, I know what Beth meant when she said that would have to be my decision and should come only after the guilt issues and detachment have occurred. I understand now.

I am not saying this is easy yet, but there is hope. I do not mean hope that my mother will ever change. She will not. But now I know it is only natural for someone raised like I was to eventually (finally after 59 years) acknowledge my real feelings of hatred for that woman. I don't like her; I probably love her at some level, but my honest feelings were hatred and terror. In high school, I had just lost 60 pounds and was blonde and beautiful, but I didn't know it. One night in my naiveté (I almost never left the house and sat day after day and night after night-all the hours I was not in school-by my mother as she ranted or gave me her nonstop advice about everything and everyone) I drove a boy home from a school honor society meeting. He asked me to pull over so I did. He almost raped me and even pulled out a knife. Luckily for me a policeman came by and we drove away. I didn't tell the police about the incident since the kid said he would kill me. But he jumped out of the car, and I drove home crying. When I told my parents what happened, my mother said that I should not say anything to get the boy in trouble since it would KILL HIS PARENTS. And then she told me for five hours that I didn't know anything about what hell was because she had saved my father's life when I was eight years old and he was so suicidal that he even was hanging in the basement and she cut him down. I had not heard that before, and I was totally debilitated by it. The message was clear-do not have any feeling of your own since MOTHER has always suffered more. Now years later, I believe that my mother made that up. My father was suicidal from a medication reaction, and he did drive his car into a tree and almost died-after my mother had him released out of suicide watch she since knew better how to care for her husband-but I am sure the hanging story was horrifying made up to terrify me and keep me in my PLACE.

My mother almost killed me when she was here, and I mean it sincerely. Every day I would go down to her lovely and huge suite (with fireplace, private porch with swing overlooking a twenty-mile long lake) and try to be helpful and pleasant around her. It didn't matter how I started the day-by 10:00 AM I was back upstairs (we have a four-story house-and the bills to go with it, trust me-and my mother was on the first floor-I basically live on the fourth floor as I am a writer and work there-I should say I was a writer since I have been unable to do anything for four months but cry and sit and stare out the window). I had assumed that after my bulimia ended, I was strong and in control-I only had that one SLIGHT issue with my mother...that ISSUE that was almost lethal for me. It didn't matter how I would approach her. If I had so much inspiration and was bursting to get back at my novel, I would be told that I was working too hard and that she was lonely or her back hurt or that I didn't understand how bad she felt or what it felt like to have a toothache or a UTI or whatever. I would spend hours getting her medication or talking to her doctors in Arizona since she wouldn't switch to a doctor here-only to have her refuse the medication, even antibiotics. It was just hell. It got so bad that I started calling my husband to come home from work to PROTECT me. I never called him before or asked for help, since I was PERFECT and my feeling didn't matter anyway. I learned differently this year, and it is wonderful to have a real relationship with my husband, finally.

I really did try to confront her many times and forgive her for what she did to me-and my sister. My sister is mentally ill. She was bipolar and then psychotic and lost her family-her house, her husband, and her three children. My mother called for her to come to Arizona so she could SAVE her. And do you know how she did this? She withheld my sister's lithium and anti-psychotic medication until my sister literally fractured and went into lockdown units over and over again. Finally, my sister demanded that she take her medication daily, and she did get better enough that can function, mildly. But she is permanently damaged and now lives in a small basement one-room efficiency in the EAST, with very little money, and doesn't care. She said she would live in a hole to be free of our mother. She is that bad.

I should also mention that a mother with NPD is HELL, but an NPD mother with Alzheimer's is like a nuclear reactor. Everyone would just say to me, "Oh, it is just the disease; be a loving and supporting daughter and caregiver. She is your mother, after all." It wasn't until recently that I realized that my mother is someone who is probably evil-and I don't mean it religiously-but the point is made. She is a martyr the size of the Towering Inferno-and she has SUFFERED so much in her life and never asked for a thing...according to her. When I read of the woman who wrote in and said that even when her twenty-one-year old son became paralyzed (and you have my great compassion and those words brought me to tears for your pain and your son's) her mother was still only focused on herself, I almost lost it from pain. A similar thing happened to us two years ago when our then nineteen-year old son developed severe gastric deterioration from an acne medication, believe it or not, and had five abdominal surgeries and spent five weeks in intensive care with ZERO percent chance medically of living. But he did, thank GOD. He then spent six more months at home where I cared for him around the clock-he had to take a year off from Princeton. It was the most horrible experience of my life, and one in which I could not leave his side for one minute. I spent five weeks in his hospital room-without EVER changing my clothes. I slept under his bed or on his bathroom floor. He was also deathly allergic to the blood thinner Heparin, so I couldn't leave him. Twice I caught nurses trying to flush out his IVs with heparin-which I batted out of their hands. I think the crisis nature of this is obvious. I never called my mother once during this period since I had no choice (although my husband did call her nightly). But, this was an indignity done to HER that she could never reconcile. I had abandoned HER. She spent the entire time, I heard later, calling everyone in the country to tell them about what a selfish and disgusting daughter I was for doing that to HER. I think you all totally understand.

Two months ago, our daughter had a huge engagement party to celebrate her finding the most wonderful young man in the world. Of course my husband and I wanted to go, but she lives 880 miles from us. I couldn't get anyone to stay with my mother, who became enraged when she finally realized I was leaving for five days. I had to ask my sister to drive eight hours to stay with mother-she did it, but it was very hard for her after living with my mother for five years. The day we were supposed to leave, my mother announced that my sister had car trouble and would not be coming. I was distraught. I didn't think I could survive another day with my mother, so I called my sister who told me that our mother had called her and told her NOT TO COME. I started crying and begged her, so she did drive all the way here. We never got out of our house until 7:00 PM, but we did go.

That was the beginning of the final journey into hell since I had dared to defy this woman by leaving her (with excellent care and a fully stocked refrigerator of homemade meals) to go see my daughter. When we returned five days later, my sister was almost ruined again; and when I announced that indeed our daughter was getting married in two weeks (and back in the South which meant another trip), all my mother said was, "Well, you're not going, right?"

That did it for me. I could finally see through her veil of compassion or generosity or charm, and realized that this woman was absolutely dangerous. I didn't answer her but started making plans to have her placed in Assisted Living. During those ten days that she stayed in the house, she was constantly on her phone whispering-calling my brothers and begging them to come and get her since I was abusive or whatever. She offered them both her house as gift if they would care for her in her house-and they both refused. They wouldn't take her again for a house worth close to a half a million dollars. After five days of constant abuse or icy stares and glares and one huge meltdown argument where I finally for the only time in my life lost it and started yelling at that woman, ARMGADDON was at hand. My mother then raised the stakes and calling everyone to report my horrendous treatment of her since I actually defied her for the first time in my life. The day before we left for the wedding, I had a private aide take my mother to the doctor and then directly to Assisted Living. If this sounds horrid, I did this at the recommendation of several doctors because with her Alzheimer's, they said she would never understand if I took her-and she may even physically try to kill me at the facility. I didn't want to take the chance-and I was too terrified to do it any other way.

I know this is a terribly long post, but I wanted to say something really important. Beth was right-when she said that for those of you who want to sever your ties with your NPD parents, you must work through it first to release any guilt or fear. I have decided that I will not personally see my mother again or talk with her. She has only one intention at this point from her NPD and the horrendous exacerbation of her behavior from dementia and that is to KILL me. But I am going to continue to work with Beth until I feel strong and assured again. And I am making enormous progress. I am not afraid any longer. I am almost getting to a point of disdain and that feels wonderful after a lifetime of living to make my mother happy or fix her problems or be her whipping post. My son has to have one more surgery in December to close a five inch wound from his former surgeries, and my daughter is making me a grandmother next year. I have to live for them and for me-and I deserve it! Thanks for listening and I wish you all the best.