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Family of Origin
I Love a Narcissist. Now What?
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 666797" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>I think our mothers were reacting to the same kinds of feelings in kind that I had with my own son.</p><p></p><p>They felt horrible and they would do whatever it took to stop the feelings. Even cruelty. Even humiliating them. Even sadism.</p><p></p><p>Sadists do what they do to conquer their own feelings of helplessness and victimization. It is the ultimate identification with the aggressor. In dominating your victim to the point of helplessness and even horror...ones own similar feelings can be put in somebody else. </p><p></p><p>I think the mechanism is similarly. It is just a question of degrees, the extent to which the parent has awareness, and the extent to which the parent has a differentiated system both internally and environmentally.</p><p></p><p>When a child acts badly...the parent can feel the child is doing it on purpose to them....punishing them....taking away their love. This is what we have been talking about the past week. i think one would call this a narcissistic injury.</p><p></p><p>I am sure this happened to me with my son. It does not mean I am a narcissist, I hope. It does not mean I am a sadist, I hope. But I could be mean...and what I felt is this: I will do anything I can or anything that will stop his (my son's) hurting me like he is. This is narcissistic injury, I think.</p><p></p><p>The other thing is narcissistic identification.</p><p>Cedar, look at what your sister did to her children and to her grand? She makes them parade around restaurants (I forgot the other place it was so excruciatingly horrible a thought picture). </p><p></p><p>When we are acting like this, I will admit to both types of behaviors, we are unaware of what we are doing. I will speak for myself. I knew it was wrong. I knew I was out of control. I could not stop. At the time. </p><p></p><p>Now that I am forced to acknowledge it. This is exactly the same thing I describe about my sister.</p><p></p><p>When I think about it? How could I not think that I was similarly injured?</p><p> I know I knew my mother meant it. I never doubted her love for me. I think the same is true for my son. </p><p></p><p>He never doubted I loved him. He knew I meant it. I am responsible. Nothing can make it not so.</p><p></p><p>I think that is the difference. The capacity for flexibility. My son and I are both changing. </p><p></p><p>My sister may be capable of changing <em>with her own children. But I do not think she would be with me.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p>Cedar, I think the quandary that we were in as children, or one of them, was cognitive dissonance. I believe that my mother loved me. But she treated me very, very badly. She was mean. I struggled with (and still struggle) understanding why her love for me felt so mean and bad that when I was an adult, I could not even be around her. </p><p></p><p>As we have said before, the only way to understand this, as a child, was: I must be very bad for my mother to treat me this way. I must be a very, very bad girl to be so angry at my Mommy. And that was how we solved it. We needed Mommy's that loved us. In in their way, our mother's did. In that way we could understand the bad treatment of us. And reconcile the cognitive dissonance.</p><p></p><p>That is how I understand my situation. </p><p></p><p>I do not know why here, but again, I am feel how much I love and miss my mother. </p><p></p><p>I guess I can look at it half glass full and half glass empty.</p><p></p><p>Half glass empty: How sad. To have felt so afraid to love nearly so much of my life, except in my work. Where I was safe because I could have no expectations in return.</p><p></p><p>I know the psychiatrist would point out if he were here that I chose as my love objects, two people who were completely marginalized in this society: My son, in an orphanage. M in terms of his legal status. Was this the only way I could love safely? I am done accusing myself...but I cannot not ask myself the question.</p><p></p><p>Half glass full: I am strong enough to love. I love fully and simply.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 666797, member: 18958"] [I][I][/I][/I]I think our mothers were reacting to the same kinds of feelings in kind that I had with my own son. They felt horrible and they would do whatever it took to stop the feelings. Even cruelty. Even humiliating them. Even sadism. Sadists do what they do to conquer their own feelings of helplessness and victimization. It is the ultimate identification with the aggressor. In dominating your victim to the point of helplessness and even horror...ones own similar feelings can be put in somebody else. I think the mechanism is similarly. It is just a question of degrees, the extent to which the parent has awareness, and the extent to which the parent has a differentiated system both internally and environmentally. When a child acts badly...the parent can feel the child is doing it on purpose to them....punishing them....taking away their love. This is what we have been talking about the past week. i think one would call this a narcissistic injury. I am sure this happened to me with my son. It does not mean I am a narcissist, I hope. It does not mean I am a sadist, I hope. But I could be mean...and what I felt is this: I will do anything I can or anything that will stop his (my son's) hurting me like he is. This is narcissistic injury, I think. The other thing is narcissistic identification. Cedar, look at what your sister did to her children and to her grand? She makes them parade around restaurants (I forgot the other place it was so excruciatingly horrible a thought picture). When we are acting like this, I will admit to both types of behaviors, we are unaware of what we are doing. I will speak for myself. I knew it was wrong. I knew I was out of control. I could not stop. At the time. Now that I am forced to acknowledge it. This is exactly the same thing I describe about my sister. When I think about it? How could I not think that I was similarly injured? I know I knew my mother meant it. I never doubted her love for me. I think the same is true for my son. He never doubted I loved him. He knew I meant it. I am responsible. Nothing can make it not so. I think that is the difference. The capacity for flexibility. My son and I are both changing. My sister may be capable of changing [I]with her own children. But I do not think she would be with me. [/I] Cedar, I think the quandary that we were in as children, or one of them, was cognitive dissonance. I believe that my mother loved me. But she treated me very, very badly. She was mean. I struggled with (and still struggle) understanding why her love for me felt so mean and bad that when I was an adult, I could not even be around her. As we have said before, the only way to understand this, as a child, was: I must be very bad for my mother to treat me this way. I must be a very, very bad girl to be so angry at my Mommy. And that was how we solved it. We needed Mommy's that loved us. In in their way, our mother's did. In that way we could understand the bad treatment of us. And reconcile the cognitive dissonance. That is how I understand my situation. I do not know why here, but again, I am feel how much I love and miss my mother. I guess I can look at it half glass full and half glass empty. Half glass empty: How sad. To have felt so afraid to love nearly so much of my life, except in my work. Where I was safe because I could have no expectations in return. I know the psychiatrist would point out if he were here that I chose as my love objects, two people who were completely marginalized in this society: My son, in an orphanage. M in terms of his legal status. Was this the only way I could love safely? I am done accusing myself...but I cannot not ask myself the question. Half glass full: I am strong enough to love. I love fully and simply. [/QUOTE]
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