Narcissistic Personality Disorder | CPTSDfoundation.org

How the Narcissistic Parent Uses Annihilation

Rebekah Brown — Thu, 28 Aug 2025 12:59:03 +0000

Narcissistic Behavior

I watched as the rage my father always carried washed over his face. Turing red, he stared at me with threatening eyes. I immediately looked for a way to back down. I had stepped over the boundary and committed the unpardonable sin—I had expressed a personal opinion that didn’t agree with his. My words were seen as a challenge, and he communicated total compliance without saying a word.

When that covert narcissist happens to be a parent, the damage they do has lifelong consequences.

If you have ever had a run-in with a covert narcissist, you will be familiar with this type of behavior. Whether it be a boss, a friend, or a family member, the covert narcissist has an amazing ability to communicate threat in a quiet but clear way. And when that covert narcissist happens to be a parent, the damage they do has lifelong consequences.

My father laid down total compliance throughout my childhood. In those years, it was easy to assault my personhood using physical, verbal, and emotional abuse because I was trapped with no way to escape. Totally dependent on him, he used my vulnerability and innocence as a way to extend his control.

Later, as an adult, he used tactics like questioning my decisions, behaving like a gatekeeper of approval, controlling the narrative, and acting as the moral authority to undermine any sense of independence I gained. Whenever I attempted something new, or stumbled into his orbit by sharing my plans, he would predict failure, imply collapse, and undercut my safety—unless, that is, I shored up his narcissistic system. Even then, his approval was doled out in crumbs. I snapped them up like a starving animal, oblivious to what he was up to.

How a Narcissist Tries to Annihilate Their Adult Child

In my adulthood, my father used manipulative behavior to express his displeasure. My son’s graduation from college was another opportunity for my father to ruin an otherwise happy occasion. Having barely survived childhood, I was so relieved and excited to have arrived at such a milestone and could not wait to see my son receive his engineering degree from a prestigious university. Instead of joining in the celebration, at the last minute, my father decided not to show up. I spent the entire ceremony wondering where he was and scanning the crowd in hopes that he had simply sat in the wrong seat. Afterwards, we hastily drove to his house, where he pouted in his bedroom, refusing to come out and speak to me. I cried the entire three-hour drive home.

You are nothing. I am the center, and you revolve around me

Weeks later, he told me flippantly, “I felt left out, but I was just having a bad day.” No apology, no self-awareness, no understanding of what his behavior had cost me, not to mention the entire family that day. After decades of tolerating his abuse, my emotional life was filled with anxiety and distress. On this day of all days, my father had decided to once again communicate the message: “You exist only in relation to me; without my approval, guidance, or control, you are nothing. I am the center, and you revolve around me. If you step out of my control, you will collapse into nothingness. I will always have the ability to destroy your happiness.”

As a child, survival depended upon appeasing this man. As an adult, I believed my safety and survival still depended on him. After that incident, I finally began to realize that nothing I ever did was going to be enough. Disentangling myself would become a mission. He wasn’t going to change, but I could.

Why Do Narcissists Do This?

Why do narcissists behave like this? It is complicated, but knowing a few reasons why can help alleviate blaming yourself. (Which is what the narcissist wants you to do.)

Fear of Losing Control

-Narcissists see their children as extensions of themselves. When a child grows up and asserts autonomy, the narcissist experiences this as betrayal or abandonment.

-Threats of annihilation become weapons to keep the child psychologically tethered.

Power Through Fear

-Narcissists lack empathy, so fear is their most reliable way to maintain dominance

-This keeps the adult child in a cycle of anxiety, hesitation, and self-doubt

Projection of Their Own Terror

-Deep down, narcissists live with an unacknowledged fear of annihilation themselves. They fear being irrelevant, abandoned, or exposed.

-They project these fears onto the child and use attacks, threats or emotional blackmail to unload their own inner chaos.

How Covert Narcissistic Tactics Work

Knowledge is power, and nowhere is this truer than in breaking free from the power of a narcissistic parent. Understanding what they are up to is the first step in the healing process. The following may help you distinguish the types of tactics a narcissist uses to establish their destructive dominance, especially toward their children.

-Undermining Confidence and Questioning Reality: “Are you sure that happened?” Planting doubt so you second-guess yourself.

Minimizing success: “That’s nothing special, anyone could do that.”

Shifting credit: Quietly taking credit for your achievements or framing them as their doing. (My father wanted credit for my son’s achievement. He later came out and said so.)

Withholding & Silent Control, Stonewalling: Refusing to engage, making you feel like you don’t exist unless you comply. Withdrawal of affection. Coldness or indifference as punishment. Strategic silence. Using non-response to keep you uneasy and seeking approval.

Subtle Power Moves, Positioning Themselves as the Expert: Correcting you constantly, even in small ways. Backhanded compliments. “You look good — for once.” Mocking or smirking. Nonverbal ways of belittling that keep them on top without a word spoken.

Playing the Victim, martyr narrative: “After all I’ve done for you…” Fragility as control. Acting wounded by your independence, so you feel guilty for separating. Inverted blame. You are “selfish,” “ungrateful,” or “cruel” if you assert yourself.

Covert Threats forecasting failure: “You’ll regret that” or “You’ll never make it without me.”Implying collapse. Suggesting that your choices will “ruin the family” or “destroy everything.” Undercutting safety. Quietly reminding you that no one else will care for you the way they do.

Placing Themselves in the Seat of Power, Gatekeeping Approval: Making you earn small crumbs of validation. Controlling narratives. Telling others your version of your life so you look unstable or dependent. Acting as the moral authority. Subtly elevating themselves as more righteous, smarter, or “wiser.”

My father never said the words, “I’ll annihilate you,” but that was the hidden message driving his interactions with me. Recently spending time in deep, inner healing work, my therapist asked me, “Can you remember a single time your father ever did anything out of love for you?” I thought for several minutes, and to my shock, I could not think of a single time. Even things that appeared good were done to shore up his narcissistic system or make himself look better. If you find yourself trying to break free of a powerful narcissistic parent, don’t give up. It is difficult, but possible, even necessary in order to reclaim the life that should be yours. Defy trauma, embrace joy.

https://rebekahlaynebrown.com

Photo by Red Dot on Unsplash

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Rebekah Brown

Rebekah Brown, a native of the south, now resides in the Great American West. Surviving a complicated and abusive family system makes her unique writing style insightful as well as uplifting. Rebekah is the proud mother of two and grandmother of four.

Unmasking the Wounds: My Journey Through Narcissistic Abuse

Amy Jean Mittelstadt — Tue, 29 Jul 2025 11:38:15 +0000

For my own emotional safety and privacy, I have chosen to use alternate names for those involved. “Debby” and “Valerie” are not their real names, but they represent very real pain. For most of my life, I questioned my reactions to emotional pain. I convinced myself I was too sensitive, too reactive, or too forgiving. It took years of confusion, self-blame, and emotional exhaustion before I understood that I had been caught in a cycle of narcissistic abuse, carefully hidden behind smiles, passive-aggressive remarks, and performative concern.

“You always twist everything to make yourself the victim. It’s exhausting.”

Debby came into my life through family. She was the kind of person who masked cruelty behind sweetness and intelligence. To everyone else, she appeared thoughtful, well-spoken, even graceful. But in private moments, she delivered cutting comments with a smile and thrived on power dynamics she subtly engineered. She often played the victim while simultaneously controlling the narrative, twisting events and conversations to paint herself as misunderstood or targeted. It took me a long time to realize that she enjoyed emotional chaos as long as it kept her in the spotlight. One message from Debby still echoes in my mind: “You always twist everything to make yourself the victim. It’s exhausting.” Debby’s manipulation tactics were layered and calculated. She used triangulation frequently, looping in others behind my back to shift perception and create confusion. She and her husband even learned sign language as a private form of communication in front of others, including me, and once signed a message to him during a family gathering to “control your mother and get her checked” because she felt annoyed by his mom.

She frequently used the phrase, “You’re being aggressive,” any time I attempted to express a boundary or respond to her provocations. Debby also weaponized private information I had shared with her, subtly leaking it to others in a twisted form to damage my reputation while keeping her own hands clean. She refused to take accountability for anything but thrived on issuing ultimatums, flipping the script, and responding with, “Then stop contacting me,” when I asked for respect and honesty.

Then came Valerie.

She portrayed herself as the nurturing one, the martyr holding everything together. But underneath the surface, she constantly positioned herself above others. She was more subtle, using backhanded compliments, guilt trips, and triangulation to maintain control. I found myself second-guessing every interaction with her, walking on eggshells to avoid triggering her defensiveness or judgment. When I did try to set boundaries, she would redirect the focus onto herself, making my pain feel inconvenient or invalid. One message from Valerie that stayed with me was: “You should really think about why everyone has such a hard time getting along with you.” Valerie’s manipulation was often masked in concern or self-pity. She regularly framed herself as the peacemaker, while quietly seeding division behind the scenes. She frequently called her own husband “crazy” in front of others to invalidate his feelings or opinions.

On one hand, she portrayed herself as rejected and mistreated, and on the other, she seemed tightly woven into the fabric of her family’s life.

Valerie convinced him to annul a previous marriage through the Catholic Church in order to marry her, despite his having children from that relationship. She also used guilt-based tactics to gain control over family dynamics, such as framing her involvement in every situation as being “just to help” while taking subtle jabs at others’ character. When she felt threatened or confronted, she would say, “I’m just trying to keep the peace,” as a way to end the conversation and avoid accountability. Her most consistent tactic was rewriting history, claiming I was distant, difficult, or dramatic while minimizing her own role in creating those dynamics. Valerie also frequently claimed to be the black sheep in her own family, stating that no one liked her or treated her well. Yet despite those claims, she maintained a close and visible relationship with her family, posting affectionate messages online and attending family events regularly. This contradiction only added to the confusion. On one hand, she portrayed herself as rejected and mistreated, and on the other, she seemed tightly woven into the fabric of her family’s life. It created an illusion that made her stories harder to question, because they came wrapped in both victimhood and performance. I tolerated it for a long time. I stayed quiet to avoid making waves, hoping things would change if I just tried harder. But the more I bent myself to keep the peace, the more fractured I became inside. I started losing trust in my own perception.

I isolated myself emotionally, ashamed of how deeply these women’s words and behaviors affected me. The turning point came when I began learning about narcissistic behavior patterns. Suddenly, my experiences made sense. The love-bombing, the gaslighting, the silent treatment, the manipulation, it all clicked. I was not imagining it. I was not being dramatic. I had been systematically emotionally worn down by individuals who needed to feel superior in order to feel secure. Healing did not happen overnight. It started with journaling, therapy, and slowly allowing myself to believe that what happened was real. I created distance. I stopped explaining myself to those committed to misunderstanding me. I permitted myself to choose peace over performance, and truth over silence. Telling this story is not about revenge. It is about reclaiming my voice after years of being silenced through subtle cruelty. It is about helping others feel less alone in the shadows of emotional manipulation. If you recognize yourself in this story, please know: you are not weak, and you are not alone. What you went through was real. And you deserve the kind of love that does not demand your silence as the price of belonging. Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect my privacy. Any resemblance to real individuals is purely coincidental.

10 Ways to Spot a Narcissist.

10 Ways to Spot a Narcissist. They twist facts to fit their version of the story.

1. They rewrite conversations and events to make themselves look like the victim or the hero, never the problem.
2. They give backhanded compliments. Praise often comes with a sting, like “You look good… for once.”
3. They lack accountability. Apologies, if given, are usually deflective- “Sorry you feel that way,” instead of genuine remorse. 4. They demand loyalty but gossip about others, even those considered close to them, under the guise of “superiority” or “concern”. They create alliances to isolate people and maintain control, then turn on others just as quickly.
5. They use your emotions against you. Vulnerability is weaponized. When you open up, they later use your words to shame or discredit you.
6. They thrive on control and attention. If the focus is not on them, they find subtle or dramatic ways to reclaim the spotlight. 7. They play the victim when called out. Instead of addressing the issue, they redirect by saying, “I can’t believe you would accuse me of that” or “what do you mean by accountability?” only admitting that they have no intentions or can’t possess the capacity to hold such a standard
8. They fluctuate between idealizing and devaluing. One moment you are “the only one who understands them,” and the next, you are “too much” or “not enough.”
9. They make you doubt your reality. Through gaslighting, they cause you to question your memory, perception, or feelings. 10. They are highly reactive to boundaries. Any request for space, clarity, or respect is seen as an attack or betrayal.

10 Grounded Phrases to Keep Your Peace and Integrity

1. “That is not how I experienced it, and I will not debate my reality.” (Clear, calm, and boundary-based.)
2. “I will not engage in a conversation that twists my words.” (Stops the spin.)
3. “You are entitled to your version. I am allowed to hold mine.” (Affirms both separation and self-trust.)
4. “I am not available for guilt trips or emotional manipulation.” (Names the tactic without getting pulled in.)
5. “We can continue this conversation when respect is part of it.” (Sets a condition for communication.)
6. “I will not accept blame for things outside of my control.” (Protects from scapegoating.)
7. “That comment feels disrespectful, and I am stepping away.” (Protects your nervous system.)
8. “Silence or withdrawal will not pressure me to comply.” (Neutralizes the silent treatment.)
9. “No is a full sentence.” (Short, solid, and self-honoring.)
10. “I do not owe continued access to someone who does not treat me with care.” (Affirms your worth and boundaries.)

Cover Image created with AI

Amy Jean Mittelstadt

Amy Mittelstadt is a trauma-informed writer, psychology student, and cycle-breaking mother of three who is passionate about empowering survivors of complex trauma to reclaim their voice and rebuild their sense of self. Raised in the foster care system and having lived through over twenty placements before the age of eighteen, Amy understands firsthand what it means to grow up unseen, mislabeled, and emotionally displaced.
Now pursuing a degree in psychology with plans to become a clinical psychologist, Amy draws on her lived experience to advocate for trauma-informed care, emotional literacy, and survivor-led healing. She was recently honored with the Presidential Outstanding Student Award at her college for her academic excellence, leadership, and resilience. Amy is an active member of the Global Leaders Club, where she fosters community growth and encourages emotional empowerment among her peers.
She is currently writing her first book, The Ones Who Raised Me Didn’t Know Me, a hybrid memoir and transformational guide for women who grew up misunderstood, misnamed, or emotionally silenced, and who are now reclaiming their identities with clarity and strength. Her writing explores themes such as narcissistic abuse, complex PTSD, emotional survival, and healing through authenticity.
Through blog entries, poetry, and educational advocacy, Amy creates a space where truth is honored and survivors are reminded that they were never broken, only buried. Her work is a voice for those who are learning that peace is not the absence of pain, but the presence of self.

The Death of A Narcissist

Rebekah Brown — Tue, 20 May 2025 16:25:00 +0000

It’s something every survivor of childhood trauma dreads: the death of their abuser. No one has any idea how they are going to react. Will you be awash in regret? How about grief? The losses incurred dealing with a narcissistic parent over a lifetime complicate everything, even death. And that is true whether you walked away years ago or stayed nominally in touch. Both my parents were highly dysfunctional. My mother, who died in 2021, was a mentally ill enabler. She was definitely a narcissist, but in a different way from my father.

My father finally died a few months ago. Survivors will understand the word finally. I thought he would never die. Billy Joel’s song “Only the Good Die Young” was certainly true in this situation. I had gone no contact about seven years before, but the shadow of power this man wielded over my life continued, whether I was in contact with him or not. I even moved all the way across the country to put space between me and him. Space between the present and the past. The constructed reality he demanded everyone agree with, the dominating presence where no voice save his was heard, the judgmental pronouncements of doom and gloom over your life, the complete lack of understanding or empathy. These were just a few of the ways his brainwashing impacted me.

These were just a few of the ways his brainwashing impacted me.

And when he died, instead of the relief I felt at my mother’s passing, a terrible door that had been shut for over sixty years was opened. The parts of me from childhood that had split off and carried the load felt free to come forward, and it was hard. Hard to face them, hard to talk to them, and hard to become an ally to them instead of an enemy.

There are no words to describe the damage and loss that occur when your parents choose the path of narcissism. To their very grave, my parents never had the slightest inkling of self-awareness or took any personal responsibility. In fact, my sibling and I were “disinherited.” The old threat to keep me within my father’s orbit finally came true. For me, I could understand it; I walked away years ago. But for my sibling who provided for my father financially and took care of his ex-wife, our mother, who otherwise would have been homeless, it was a low blow. Yet again, the narcissist showed his true colors. It did not matter what you did for the man; he did not know how to do anything other than hurt us. His final message? “You are worthless.”

But I survived, and guess what? My father was wrong. It took everything I had to slog through the twisted spider web of lies he had spun. I spent decades trying to understand, reaching toward the truth that seemed to dissipate into mist at the slightest stress. To quiet the dissonance in my mind, heart, and soul. I used every technique and read every book I could get my hands on, but you know what? I made it. I have written a new chapter, established new relationships, and I walk in truth. What does the Bible say? The truth will set you free? Yep, that’s what it says. I can wonder at the joy in life, pursue dreams and goals I never thought reachable, and more than anything else, I can finish well, leaving a legacy of peace, encouragement, and kindness to my children.

I pity my mother and father. They never knew how wonderful life could be. It is still hard sometimes, I suppose I will always bear the scars to a certain degree, but I made it. I made it out, and I am so thankful I did not give up. Defy trauma, embrace joy. It is worth it.

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Rebekah Brown

The Wounds That Don’t Show

Roseanne Reilly — Thu, 08 May 2025 11:25:38 +0000

Reclaiming Safety after Narcissistic Abuse

This post explores the unseen consequences of narcissistic abuse, the breakdown of psychological and physiological safety, and the slow, sacred journey of healing ‘functional freeze’ that invites us to reclaim our inner warmth.

How Narcissistic Abuse Disrupts the Nervous System

Narcissistic abuse doesn’t just hurt emotionally. It rewires the nervous system. Love becomes laced with fear. Intuition is replaced by doubt. The body learns to stay on alert, never knowing when the next emotional ambush will strike. These are not just psychological scars—they are physiological adaptations.

Common nervous system responses among survivors:

Chronic anxiety or emotional numbness
Over-apologizing
Fear of abandonment over minor conflict
Difficulty setting boundaries without guilt
Feeling responsible for others’ emotions

These are survival strategies encoded into the nervous system through repeated betrayal, manipulation, and neglect.

The Hidden Insults

While emotional abuse can be covert, it is often accompanied by devastating tactics that attack a person’s reality and sense of belonging:

Smear campaigns and the calculated effort to damage someone’s reputation through lies, exaggerations, or half-truths. It causes social isolation, chronic fight-or-flight activation and the complete breakdown of trust in self and others.

Over time, victims may experience health issues like chronic fatigue, autoimmune conditions, and depression.

Triangulation introduces a third person to control, confuse, or destabilize relationships. Whether in families, workplaces, or romantic partnerships, it creates instability and self-doubt, keeping the nervous system in survival mode.

The disorientation and confusion is used as a control mechanism. Gaslighting, word salads, blame-shifting and future faking, we’ve heard it all before and know it well. But the results? Cognitive overload, emotional dysregulation, and loss of interoceptive awareness (gut instinct). This prolonged disorientation leads many into chronic freeze states or dissociation.

The freeze response is a survival mechanism — often a final refuge when fight or flight isn’t possible. In environments filled with chronic gaslighting, unpredictability, or betrayal, the body may enter this state or bounce between freeze and flight to cope with overwhelm. To heal, we first name it and understand it, and then gently support ourselves in thawing.

Recognizing You’re in a Freeze State

Recognizing that haze and sense of disconnection from your body or emotions, the difficulty making decisions or forming coherent thoughts (brain fog), the flat affect and emotional numbness, of being here but not. Slowly losing interest in things you used to enjoy. The sometimes comforting yet lonely feeling of invisibility or of being unreachable, even around others. The fatigue has no clear cause, but you quietly know what lies beneath it. The difficulty sensing hunger, thirst, or needing to use the bathroom, and the subtle painful tap dance between shame or guilt for “not doing enough”

In freeze, the nervous system is still highly activated beneath the surface, but energy gets “locked in” to prevent you from feeling it all at once. It’s like hitting the emergency brakes internally. The damage to the nervous system is real. Healing is not about “getting over it.” It’s about re-establishing the trust that was broken—restoring the nervous system and connection between body and mind, self and others.

Nervous System Recovery Begins With Restoring Safety to the System, then:

Recognition: Understanding manipulation helps restore clarity.
Boundary repair: Healthy boundaries signal to your body: “You are safe now.”
Somatic practices: Breathwork, vagal toning, movement, and trauma-informed yoga shift you out of stuck survival stress states.
Reconnecting to intuition: Somatic therapy and journaling help restore healthy interoception.
Safe connection: Healthy relationships restore oxytocin flow and ventral vagal activation (social engagement).

The cyclical nature of healing and the quiet, grief-filled moments become sacred territory for you to navigate with such an immense level of kindness towards what is arising for you. This is not about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you were before the distortion. The self that was buried beneath the rubble the noise and manipulation. We rise again because we learn to tend to our own vision of our future selves while reclaiming our shattered, displaced, and stolen pieces.

You might recognize these signs of coming out of freeze by suddenly crying all the choked back tears, maybe the body will even begin to quiver and shake, and yawn with a desire to stretch. Increased awareness of your breath or bodily sensations indicates you are coming back home to your body. This might trigger subtle emotional stirrings (grief, anger, longing), maybe feeling both scared and curious at the same time. The beginning of boundaries forming internally is a really good sign of recovery.

Gentle Reminder:
Coming out of freeze can feel overwhelming — even “too alive” — so it’s important to go slowly, be tender and understand the nuances and nudges of your inner world. Your nervous system is doing something extraordinary: rediscovering presence and both physiological and psychological.

A Note of Hope

Narcissistic abuse is real. Its impact is profound. But so is the recovery.

The nervous system, once betrayed, can learn to feel safe again. It can rewire, reconnect, and reclaim its vital energy.

Along the healing path, you will meet others who see you. Who understand you. Who walk beside you as you rediscover your worth and rebuild your inner sanctuary.

You are becoming.

And your nervous system deserves nothing less than peace, presence, and protection.

Cover image: romario-roges-LwOHND7viXA-unsplash.jpg

Roseanne Reilly

Are you carrying more than you can process?

I’m Roseanne, a practitioner in Neuro-Somatic Stress & Emotional Integration,
and the creator of The Listening Lab, powered by Core NeuroCare©.

I help people move beyond stress and beneath emotional overwhelm—
into a place where you begin to feel like your coming together rather than falling apart.

Roseanne provides a deep soul-led healing experience, 1 to 1 and small group mentoring online and in-person

Roseanne Reilly DipNUR, APCST, ERYT500hr CEP

Downloadable Resources at www.handsoftimehealing.com

Free Resources at https://www.youtube.com/@HandsofTimeHealing

www.handsoftimehealing.com

Join The Live Stream: The Public Health Disaster of Narcissism & Toxic Masculinity

STAR Network — Fri, 22 Nov 2024 10:34:39 +0000

Narcissism and toxic masculinity aren’t just societal issues-they are public health crises disrupting relationships, families, and the mental health of men and women alike.

This November, during Men’s Health Month, STAR Network is hosting a transformative livestream event, “Hollywood’s TAR Tales Exposed: The Public Health Disaster of Narcissism & Toxic Masculinity,” to explore the far-reaching consequences of these issues and offer strategies for healing and change.

Led by trauma and mental health experts Dr. Jamie Huysman and Richard Grannon, this event will dissect Hollywood’s glamorization of toxic behaviors, exposing the damage they inflict on men, women, and families while emphasizing the importance of breaking the toxic cycle.

Knowledge You’ll Acquire at This Event

During this Live Stream, you’ll learn:

How toxic masculinity and narcissistic behaviors impact men’s health and relationships.
Tools to identify and dismantle these harmful patterns.
Strategies for building authentic, empowering relationships.
Insights into how men can redefine masculinity to embrace vulnerability, empathy, and connection.

This Live Stream is essential for women seeking to understand and navigate the impact of toxic masculinity and narcissism in their lives.

It will provide practical tools to recognize red flags in relationships, protect boundaries, and foster self-confidence. Women will gain insights into how these behaviors affect emotional well-being and learn strategies for resilience and recovery.

Additionally, the event will offer clarity on navigating societal pressures that shape unhealthy dynamics while empowering women to model and build healthier relationships for their families.

It’s a powerful opportunity to reclaim your strength and create a future rooted in confidence and connection.

How Toxic Masculinity Harms Everyone?

Toxic masculinity goes beyond the stereotype of aggression or dominance. It creates harmful expectations that negatively impact relationships, families, and individual well-being.

Hurting Men: Toxic masculinity enforces the belief that men must suppress emotions, avoid vulnerability, and equate self-worth with dominance. This often leads to poor mental health, increased rates of isolation, substance abuse, and even suicide. During Men’s Health Month, it’s critical to spotlight how these pressures damage men’s emotional well-being and ability to form meaningful connections.
Hurting Relationships: These outdated norms perpetuate unhealthy dynamics in relationships, fostering mistrust, conflict, and a lack of emotional intimacy. Men trapped in these patterns often struggle to communicate their needs or support their partners emotionally, creating disconnects that erode partnerships over time.
Hurting Families: Toxic masculinity often prevents men from being present, empathetic, and engaged parents, which can lead to generational cycles of emotional neglect and dysfunction. Children exposed to these behaviors may internalize them, perpetuating the trauma into their own relationships.

Why Does Men’s Health Month Matter?

This November, Men’s Health Month provides an opportunity to reflect on the unique challenges men face in navigating societal pressures, mental health, and relationships.

By addressing the damaging effects of toxic masculinity, we can create a path toward healthier lives for men, stronger families, and more balanced partnerships.

Don’t Miss Out – Reserve Now

Don’t miss this essential conversation on November 26th at 5 PM UK Time (12 PM ET).

Visit starnetwork.org and subscribe to our newsletter to save your spot and get reminded about the Live Stream Event on our YouTube channel.

Let’s come together to support men, women, and families in building a future rooted in understanding, connection, and resilience. 🌟

STAR Network

STAR Network, is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization committed to Support, Treatment, and Prevention of Narcissistic Abuse and Attachment Disorders. Narcissistic abuse is one of the most devastating triggers for CPTSD, robbing survivors of their authenticity. STAR Network empowers STARs (Survivors of Toxic Abusive Relationships) with its transformational program, TAR Anon™. STAR Network is the leading global trauma support network, offering free resources to heal individuals and families impacted by trauma, PTSD and CPTSD. Their mission is to transform lives, reduce relapse rates, and create a lasting, inclusive community of support.

https://starnetwork.org/

https://drjamie.com/

https://taranon.org/

https://tartales.org/

The Weaponization of Ambiguity: A Call to Rename NPD to Support Victims of Sociopathic Violence in a World of Rising Narcissism (Part 1)

Bonni Benton — Wed, 11 Sep 2024 09:18:53 +0000

Part 1 of 4

In 1980, the DSM-III first added narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) to its diagnostic manual. It incorporated the trait of passive aggression, which applies primarily to covert/vulnerable NPD. We don’t diagnose passive aggression anymore because most people are, to some degree, passive-aggressive. The term has desaturated. Today, the DSM-5 has yet to distinguish between malignant and grandiose pathological narcissism, while practicing behavioral therapists do.

In 2015, the WHO issued guidelines on best practices for naming infectious diseases. Dr. Keiji Fukuda, Assistant Director-General for Health Security at WHO, highlighted the importance of accurate, culturally attuned language around public health: “This may seem like a trivial issue to some, but disease names really do matter to the people who are directly affected…(It) can have serious consequences for people’s lives and livelihoods.”

In 2022, pop mistress Taylor Swift qualified narcissist with the word covert in her mega-hit “Anti-Hero.” In 2023, gaslighting was Merriam-Webster’s “Word of the Year”. (The top contenders were oligarch, omicron, raid (as in police maneuver), LGBTQIA+, and queen’s consort.) TikTok regularly debates #NarcTok: over 2 billion accounts have engaged with the social media tag to date. This increased awareness is a double-edged sword: language is an instrument for our natural human desire to relate, but it is also volatile and amorphous. Collectively, we have established the vernacular of the narcissistic playbook but have growing pains around the necessary discretion about the degree of severity.

Narcissistic traits to the point of NPD are rare, officially occurring in 1-3% of the population. That’s equivalent to a median of 1.75% of every breakup song you’ve ever heard being caused by a qualifiable spiritual rapist. Paradoxically, however, the disorder is underreported because, at its core, it is an inability to recognize fault or seek treatment. While healing from all nine diagnostic qualifiers during later lied-about private moments, I found myself more qualified than my abuser to name it.

Ordinarily, this is problematic: intersubjectivities should be honored, and advocates have long fought for patient’s rights to validation. But this wasn’t ordinary life: it was dragged-through-hell-backwards-by-a-sociopath land. NPD differs in this bizarre “logic” even from other cluster-B disorders, though comorbidity can exist. It’s natural to have blind spots to one’s patterns, but narcissists/narcissistic collectives occupy a sinister corner because they are the dead-last person/group qualified to recognize their faults or be trusted to hold themselves accountable. Narcissus was doomed to only love his reflection, but the scariest thing about NPD is that there is no center of self to reflect upon, thus the constant need for external supply. While we foster safe spaces in society, it is important to outline when somebody has a diminished capacity to do so.

The following entries are aspects of my reflection as I (like everyone) move through a dangerous world in my overlapping roles. My formative years were spent under a regime of religious and regional patriarchy. Relatedly, but rarely stated in black and white: I was repeatedly raped as a child. My caregivers didn’t have the language to ask me why I was so sullen and numb, so of course, I didn’t either, and I was heavily medicated. I survived, adapted, and grew up. I was then repeatedly sexually assaulted as an adult.

Today, I am actively in recovery from domestic violence by somebody who claimed to love me. I have ample evidence of his vicious narcissistic abuse, but nowhere to put it. After he discarded his broken toy, I went rogue in retaliation. I was fueled by our collective lack of awareness about and institutional replication of the situation’s severity and received a slew of contradictory messages from a recovery culture that encouraged me to return to my intuition. I took full responsibility for it. Today, as a post-graduate researcher, I’m knee-deep in our messy global history and the philosophies on whether our current collective state needs to be so dire.

I have collided with the rising prevalence of this patterned behavior from deflective black holes. I have borne repeated witness to humans asking to be gods without knowing how. I am not in the business of prescriptive false prophecy, but contrary to my less-than-perfect record disqualifying me from this conversation, it has been the main consideration through every breath of my life.

When I was breaking down from my profoundly projective boyfriend’s reactive abuse (plus getting a handle on “the playbook” and calling his bluff), he convinced me that I had a personality disorder, and I deep-dove into research on the condition’s dynamics to keep from bursting into a million pieces. The relief from hearing others put language to the strange, inverted mechanisms that my ex used to break my mind, body, and heart was indescribable.

As I emerge from the typical narc abuse rabbit hole, these questions keep me up at night: What happens if two people gaslight each other? What happens if two institutions gaslight each other? How do you differentiate between demanding accountability and a projection? And why exactly is DARVO so effective? I appreciate reminders that profound losses of self come in different forms. It would be ridiculous for me to suggest my relationship with a narc was a thousand times more traumatic than your break-up. But I do not hesitate to say it was a thousand times more bizarre and convoluted than anybody gave it due. My recovery was from a distinct experience, the exact function for which we invented language.

Many therapists won’t work with NPD folks because therapy is futile without reflection. I hope to learn more from those who are willing. I must admit to derailing my recovery when I discovered some narcs do know that they’re narcs. Many of these channels are under suspicion of convincing satire. Contemporary therapeutic efforts primarily aim to help survivors re-personalize since NPD is difficult to treat (read: how to get a qualified narc to recognize their condition in the first place). NPD treatment is one of the universe’s perfect knotted paradoxes protected by bleeding hearts, flying monkeys, and narcissistic institutions.

In keeping with the prioritization of recovery and prevention, I intend to formally petition the American Psychiatric Association (who will publish the DMS-6) and the World Health Organization (who will publish the ICD-12) to consider these shifting dynamics. My call here is two-fold: to support each other in disclosing non-consensual sadistic patterned behavior when it is safe to do so and (relatedly) to create a language describing the extent of narcissistic abuse that occurs at the hands of people with NPD. It should be distinguishable from the increasingly acceptable narcissistic behavior. I would love to hear suggestions on an alternative to present to the institutions that be. Further down the road, I hope to incorporate these reflections in developing early education awareness programs.

While we work to get NPD individuals to admit a need for healing alongside us and prepare children for a world entrenched in narcissism, my proposal for an alternative to the official name of narcissistic personality disorder aims to extract the pop psychology usage of narcissism, giving another tool to those on fire from its unique style of fallout. If the official name is changed, narcissists will remain narcissists in the colloquial sense, and we should continue to engage with that rising implication. There is no reason to throw out the baby of this common usage with the bathwater during this learning curve. No cancel culture: we should be “allowed” to say the word… but we need to know what it is that we’re saying.

Bonni Benton

Bonni Benton is a multimedia artist and student. She has a BA in Theatre from Hunter College (CUNY) and will hold an MA in Comparative Literature and Cultural Studies from UNM at the end of this year. She put her roots back down in her home state of New Mexico in 2020, where she and her two rabbits currently live in a tiny house in the mountains.

Inside Alienation: Introducing CPTSD’s PASS Program (Parental Alienation Support Systems)

Paul Michael Marinello — Mon, 05 Aug 2024 09:09:55 +0000

The CPTSD Foundations PASS (Parental Alienation Support Systems) inaugural Zoom meeting will be held on Tuesday, October 1, 2024, at 6 p.m. EST and every Tuesday following. Register here: https://cptsdfoundation.org/parental-alienation/

The PASS Program Mission Statement:

The PASS program aims to provide alienated parents a resource to understand this crippling family disease and guide members with rich expert-led and real-world experiences to help manifest a path to self-discovery, self-recovery, and the elimination of guilt and shame.

A Focus on Need

Parental Alienation is an insidious family disease rooted in one parent’s quest to eliminate the other parent from their child’s life. This is not a new phenomenon, though reporting on the subject has become much more robust in the past decade.

According to a signature poll of North Carolina adults taken in 2015, more than 13% of parents have experienced parental alienation. The same study projects that at least 3.9 million children in the United States are “moderately to severely” alienated from a parent and that nearly half of these cases are severe.

This is a significant need, which is the focus of a new CPTSD Foundation Program, which will launch in earnest this fall and has had immediate, unbuckling support from our senior staff, corporate partners, and constituents.

The Parental Alienation Support Systems (PASS Program) will hold its first online Zoom session on Tuesday, October 1st, at 6 p.m., Eastern Standard Time.

Program Development

The PASS program has been developed with incredible scrutiny by fellow alienated parents who wish to bring a sense of normalcy and hope for dialogue regarding a situation many people do not feel comfortable discussing.

We are here to start that dialogue.

We are here to provide trauma-informed information. We are here to listen to your stories.

More importantly, we plan on discussing all of the many facets of this disease – in a way that allows alienated parents to shake the foundation of guilt and grief that parallels this affliction at every turn.

A steward will lead our weekly meetings to allow participants to share their stories and learn best practices to focus on healing themselves. We are not providing therapy, but our goal is an open space where we all participate and come together.

User comments

You’re Not Alone

As an alienated parent, I have spent a good part of the past three years walking into rooms (and Zooms) where few could genuinely understand my perspective. Eliminating this personal alienation is a crucial part of our program. Once you realize you are in a room with folks who can understand and empathize with your situation, a consensus builds, and loneliness weans.

We are building a community, and communities need partners, supporters, and constituents to continue to drive messaging via word of mouth. We should not be afraid to tell our truths; it is irrelevant who chooses to believe. In the PASS Program – all of our voices will be heard.

The GRACE Model

Part of building the PASS Program is focusing on other support areas beyond meetings. The GRACE model builds out the program in a way that allows a broader, more focused perspective on areas of parental alienation.

The GRACE model consists of:

Groups (Zoom online support):

Beginning October 1st at 6 p.m. EST and every Tuesday after that, we will meet to listen to each other’s stories and focus on self-care and self-worth. Each meeting will have a distinct topic (though any alienation content may be discussed). These meetings will be secured by only allowing vetted individuals to participate in our safe environment. Topics include:

Tracing the Family Dynamic
The Necessity of Self-Care
Exploring Narcissistic Abuse
Gaslighting
Trauma-Bonding
The Loss of a Living Child

Recovery

Providing members with a list of resources, mental health tools, literature recommendations, and TED-type events/engagements.

Awareness

Executing a media campaign to allow maximum exposure of the perils associated with parental alienation. In 2025, The Foundation will also conduct an independent study to understand the true nature of the prevalence of alienation.

Changing the System

Much like Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, one primary goal is getting the term parental alienation included in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which allows parents to have an official diagnosis – and a foundation to fight for their children properly.

Educating the Experts

Educating mental health professionals, attorneys, first responders, and other vital decision-makers ensures that a child’s best interests are always served.

If you’d like to learn more, email Paul Michael Marinello, PASS Program Facilitator, at passprogram@cptsdfoundation.org.

Paul Michael Marinello

Paul Michael Marinello serves as Chief Staff Writer and Blog Manager for CPTSD Foundation. Previous to this role he managed North American Corporate Communications at MSL, a top ten public relations firm where he also served on the board for Diversity & Inclusion for a staff of 80,000. Paul Michael grew up in New York and attended SUNY Farmingdale before starting a ten-year career at Columbia University. He also served as Secretary and Records Management Officer for the Millwood Fire District, appointed annually by an elected board of fire commissioners from 2008 – 2017.

Understanding Differences Narcissistic Personality Disorder vs. Borderline Personality Disorder

STAR Network — Tue, 30 Jul 2024 08:55:11 +0000

When you hear the word “narcissist,” what images come to mind? In my world, “narcissist” is a term that’s both overused and misunderstood. In common vernacular, it can be inflammatory and insulting, but in medical circles, Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is a real diagnosis with real impacts on the sufferers, their families, and their friends. The good news is that it’s treatable.

NPD is a complex mental health condition characterized by an inflated sense of self-importance, a need for excessive attention and admiration, and a lack of empathy. People with this diagnosis also display unhealthy emotional patterns that may include a sense of grandiosity, entitlement, and preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, and ideal love.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association, 5^th Edition (DSM-5) places NPD in the Cluster B Personality Disorders category. Left untreated, NPD can lead to significant challenges in relationships and work.

Understanding NPD requires moving beyond common misconceptions and stereotypes. Myths about narcissism result from a lack of knowledge – leading to stigma, misunderstanding, inadequate support, unfair treatment, and prolonging the time they and those close to them have to live with the adverse consequences of an untreated medical condition.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder – a Deeper Dive

NPD is a condition that goes beyond slightly exaggerated self-confidence or occasional self-centeredness. The DSM-5 defines NPD as a person having a grandiose sense of self-importance, exaggerating achievements and talents, and expecting to be recognized as superior even without commensurate achievements. Individuals with this diagnosis can also exhibit a preoccupation with fantasies of success, power, beauty, and idealization.

Mental health professionals look for a combination of behaviors and attitudes before assigning an NPD diagnosis, such as:

an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance;
indulging in fantasies of great success, power, brilliance, or beauty;
establishing relationships with high-status or prominent people;
arrogance and haughtiness towards others, or
grandiose expectations of recognition and praise far beyond what they deserve.

These traits are deeply ingrained in NPD sufferers, consistently influencing their behavior and interactions with others. They help to mask their fragile self-esteem, which is highly dependent on external validation.

A lack of empathy opens another window to understanding the narcissist. They find it difficult, if not impossible, to understand or relate to the emotions and experiences of others. This lack of empathy often comes with a lack of accountability and a transactional approach to relationships.

Despite their outward display of confidence, individuals with NPD are highly sensitive to criticism and perceived slights. They may react angrily or go to great lengths to avoid or discredit any perceived sources of criticism. They may appear charming and charismatic, but these social skills are deployed to gain approval and admiration, rendering personal relationships to a superficial and transactional status. They may become envious of others’ successes, where competitive and resentful behavior places a strain on relationships.

Like many psychological disorders, narcissism is a spectrum disorder. It can range from healthy self-belief to pathological narcissism. At the mild end of this spectrum lies what can be termed ‘healthy self-belief.’ This involves a balanced sense of self-worth and confidence. People who possess this are capable of empathy, can form meaningful relationships, and can handle criticism constructively.

Narcissism can be considered a spectrum disorder, ranging from healthy self-confidence to pathological narcissism. On the lower end, people can have a balanced sense of self-worth, develop meaningful relationships, and accept constructive criticism. Moving further along the spectrum, symptoms may be noticeable but not debilitating. Individuals with subclinical narcissism may exhibit self-centered behaviors and a desire for admiration.

NPD sits at the pathological end of the spectrum, and behaviors associated with it reflect a profound dysfunction that affects one’s ability to maintain healthy relationships and to function effectively in society.

Finally, at the extreme end of the spectrum lies malignant narcissism. This is a severe form of narcissism that combines the traits of NPD with antisocial behaviors, paranoia, and aggression. Malignant narcissism is characterized by a profound lack of empathy, a propensity for cruelty, and a willingness to harm others without remorse.

Understanding Differences Between Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder

There is also an important distinction to be drawn between NPD and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Both are Cluster B personality disorders; however, they have distinct characteristics and should not be confused with one another.

As we have discussed, NPD is primarily characterized by grandiosity, a lack of empathy, and a need for admiration. Individuals with NPD view themselves as superior to others and may exploit relationships to achieve their own ends. Conversely, BPD is marked by emotional instability in relationships and within their own self-image. Individuals with BPD experience intense emotional fluctuations, fear of abandonment, and difficulty maintaining stable relationships.

There is a contrast when assessing emotional responses as well. Those suffering from NPD may display superficial charm and self-assurance but are prone to feelings of anger or rage when their sense of superiority is threatened. In contrast, individuals with BPD often exhibit intense emotional reactions and mood swings, including periods of depression and anxiety. These may be heightened when there is perceived rejection or abandonment.

A final key difference can be viewed through the prism of relationships. NPD-influenced relationships tend to be one-sided, with individuals seeking admiration and control. BPD-influenced relationships are often tumultuous, with a pattern of intense and unstable interactions.

Dispelling Myths About Narcissistic Personality Disorder

By debunking common myths about NPD, we can remove bias and unfair generalizations from the conversation about this disorder. Some of the most common are listed below.

Myth: Narcissists are Just Self-Centered or Egotistical – a common misconception about NPD is that it is simply an exaggerated form of self-centeredness or egotism. This characterization oversimplifies the complexities of the disorder. NPD involves pervasive patterns of behavior that deeply affect an individual’s interactions, self-perception, and emotional regulation.
Myth: Narcissists are Always Successful and Charismatic – while some people with NPD can be outwardly charming and may achieve success in certain areas, this is not universally true. NPD can manifest in a variety of ways, and not all individuals with the disorder exhibit the charm and success often associated with narcissism. Many struggle with interpersonal relationships, work instability, and emotional turmoil.
Myth: Narcissism is Incurable and Untreatable – this misconception stems from the belief that individuals with NPD are incapable of change due to their lack of empathy and resistance to acknowledging their flaws. However, while NPD presents significant treatment challenges, it is not beyond the reach of effective therapy.

Psychotherapeutic approaches, particularly those focusing on long-term behavioral changes and emotional regulation, have been shown to help individuals with NPD. These options are discussed in more depth below.

Causes and Risk Factors Associated with Narcissistic Personality Disorder

NPD can affect anyone, but certain segments of the population are more likely to be affected based on their physical attributes (genetics) or life experiences.

Certain genetic predispositions could make an individual more vulnerable to developing personality disorders, including NPD. While not determinative on its own, this link suggests that genetic factors play a role in who gets diagnosed with NPD.

Childhood is an essential time for laying out healthy emotional patterns and behaviors. Trauma, neglect, and inconsistent or excessively critical parenting can significantly impact a child’s emotional development. A child’s experiences of excessive praise or criticism, or parents who exhibit narcissistic traits and behaviors, can lead to an unhealthy sense of self-importance or a profound lack of self-esteem. These may be precursors and lead to the development of narcissistic traits as a form of psychological defense.

While we can’t say with certainty what causes NPD, we can say with confidence that the condition is treatable.

Treatment Options and Approaches for Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Psychotherapy remains the gold standard for treating NPD. Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) is often employed to help individuals with NPD recognize and alter maladaptive thought patterns and behaviors. This approach focuses on challenging grandiose thinking and improving empathy. Dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) is also effective, particularly in teaching skills for emotional regulation, distress tolerance, and interpersonal effectiveness.

Prescription medication administered in partnership with a healthcare professional who can monitor, gauge, and adjust it as needed can be beneficial for managing conditions such as depression, anxiety, or mood disorders that appear alongside NPD. These medications can also clear a path for a more effective therapeutic intervention.

Finally, the importance of support networks and access to resources play a critical role in the treatment and recovery of individuals with NPD. Supportive relationships with family, friends, and peers can provide stability and encouragement, fostering an environment conducive to positive change. Where these relationships are lacking or are a contributing factor to ongoing NPD, self-help groups can offer essential support.

Key Takeaways

Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) is a medical condition, and it is treatable. The hope is that after reading this blog, you will have a better understanding of NPD, how it is defined, how it manifests, and how it can be treated.

Perhaps the most crucial point is the understanding that individuals with NPD need those around them to approach them with empathy and a willingness to understand their struggles. There is no doubt that the behaviors that come with NPD can be challenging. But hopefully, you can now appreciate how individuals with NPD often grapple with deep-seated insecurities and a fragile sense of self.

A powerful stigma, unhelpful labeling, misunderstanding, and prejudice by those who don’t understand NPD keep people from seeking help and receiving appropriate support. By educating ourselves and others about the nuances of personality disorders, we can foster a culture of acceptance and openness, encouraging those affected to seek the help they need.

Promoting mental health awareness not only benefits individuals with personality disorders but also enhances our collective ability to support one another in navigating the complexities of mental health challenges. In doing so, we pave the way for a more compassionate and informed society where everyone has the opportunity to thrive.

We believe in the resilience of the human spirit, and that survivors deserve to come out of the fog into the light. The goals of Scars to STARs (Survivors of Toxic Abusive Relationships) and TAR Network™ include helping survivors to find awareness, transformation, and self-love; both aim to educate, empower, and energize people as they reclaim their sense of self-worth, rebuild their lives, and emerge stronger than ever. Our international programs are here to support you every step of the way, while breaking the chains of transgenerational trauma.

TAR Anon™ is a global fellowship dedicated to supporting STARs (S urvivors of T oxic A busive R elationships). As a program of the TAR Network, a 501(c)(3) global charity, TAR Anon provides a safe and supportive community for people affected by narcissistic abuse, trauma, and Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), and caregivers in high-conflict situations.

STAR Network

https://starnetwork.org/

https://drjamie.com/

https://taranon.org/

https://tartales.org/

An Attack on All Fronts: The Mind-Body-Soul Divide-and-Conquer Technique of Narcissistic Abuse (Part 4 of 4)

Bonni Benton — Tue, 02 Jul 2024 09:36:09 +0000

Part 4 of 4:

As quickly as I could after the nervous breakdown, I kept going because recovery time from violent relationships was not covered by my health insurance. I was a sloppy, hot mess. (My lack.) I was very lucky to have colleagues, bosses, and a mother who understood the severity of my plague and initiated their own research, but the strength it took to get across the difference between this and a “bad break-up” was detrimental to my stamina, never mind tainting to my reputation and work. It was another catch-22 pitfall far beyond what seemed “reasonable” from the outside.

Unable to translate symptoms in extant paradigms

In retrospect, my bravado led to more confusion from my loved ones because I had helped them underestimate my injury. (Here, I am reminded of an oversimplified but useful adage: A psychopath will try to kill you, but a sociopath will try to get you to kill yourself. That the DSM-5 distinguishes patterned behavior from other disorders, but the law refuses to, baffles me.) Unable to translate symptoms in extant paradigms, I held it together the best I could, even while humiliated, weak, and disturbed, the way a witness to a murder is disturbed.

I learned compassion from my mother. Amidst her best understanding and patience, the intergenerational tension of what she knew I endured led us to not speak for a while. Plus, I now have a profound distrust of everyone, especially those closest to me and even those who had nursed me back to health after the final discard. I am working on it. Somehow, even after not speaking to my abuser for 9 months, he was still isolating me, though I take full responsibility for the new qualifiers of my inner circle.

I strongly believe that trauma is not competitive between us, but I can compare it to my own prior experiences: recovering from narcissism was more equivalent to recovering from an assault than my worst nightmare of break-ups,… strangely harder than recovering from an assault. The intimacy of the cut, the depth of the wound. I once wrote to my abuser, saying at least the serial rapist who I awoke in the middle of the night on top of me was honest about his hatred for me. But what do I know? I am (conveniently) a very damaged and dramatic person. It’s bulletproof.

I didn’t want to paint myself as a martyr

I spent 99% of our time together, wanting to know my ex’s concerns because I loved him, but I didn’t want to paint myself as a martyr. Near the edge, I permitted myself to unfurl, and he was the only appropriate direction in which to do that. Drained of empathy, I engaged in an aggressive experiment with what I knew would most disarm my ex: mirroring. I don’t know if he ever caught on to that, but I started doing things that came back to me through the grapevine that I was supposedly doing. Things escalated. Strangely, I am the only one with a mark on my legal record. I wholeheartedly accepted the consequences because appearances are extremely important to him: he’s not allowed to contact me either, and that was the best I could get.

I don’t intend to lie through omission; I’ve made it a practice to be transparent about my retaliations with anyone with the time to listen. But I have also learned to protect it from being further cherry-picked without the details of my provocation. Best behavior is a tall order from someone under such extreme circumstances. If you intentionally disorient a person so that you can continue to harm them, it is reasonable to expect a disoriented response.

I have no solutions to an ancient problem of evil

In my unchartered territory of recovery from intimate narcissistic abuse, I have no solutions to an ancient problem of evil. I’ve read accounts of wise men across millennia stumped about what to do with people who are inexplicably “bad seeds”; the parallels to modern behavioral scientists’ descriptions of NPD are spooky. The most cutting-edge advice I was given was to “grey rock” the narc if I couldn’t run and hide (like staying still enough so the raptor doesn’t see you while not addressing the raptor). Although this advice resonates much more than pop psychology articles that recommend extending even more empathy to a narcissist when that is precisely what they prey upon, I have been asked to do this too much for one lifetime. I wondered if researchers were talking to victims since the logic of NPD is that it hurts them too much to self-reflect. I reminded myself daily that the man I fell in love with and missed with my whole body was a ghost. I told myself this makes sense.

This wasn’t trauma; I know trauma well, and it isn’t a strong enough word. It was brain damage. Yes, the brain is plastic, and it heals like any muscle. But to suggest that my nervous system is separate from my body, that the transgressions against my safety weren’t violations of intimate contract, that the damage I endured was purely “emotional” or “psychological” is stigmatizing and limiting to both victims’ and to an understanding of the sociopathy that caused it.

I don’t know the answer to the unresolved vampirism of narcissistic abuse or its broader societal replication. But I do know that this was not a “bad breakup.” I have been heartbroken before and know it hurts your physical heart. I know it makes it hard to eat or care about anything. I’ve been rejected even when I did my best, and I know how inside out that can make one’s socio-animalistic instincts feel. Regardless of legal mischaracterizations, this was domestic violence. This was a covert and clever series of assaults.

Many survivors of narcissistic abuse report the silver lining of huge healing opportunities of self-growth on the other side. I am beginning to see that on the horizon. I wonder if I fatefully walked into the lion’s den to be able to name an enemy of whom I had been at the mercy since pre-memory. When all else failed, I reclaimed my base instincts of safety by refusing to water it down to what was visible or “logical.” I honored what my body knew and was healing from. I lost a lot of friends in the process (who, thankfully, had shades of frame of reference), but it is only because of this that I am alive and can write this essay. It was only by admitting what my body dealt with behind closed doors that I survived. My fingers type as my brain computes and my soul remembers.

Cover Image by greg-rosenke-BUj0b6pfqY4-unsplash.jpg

Bonni Benton

Roles in Dysfunctional Family Systems Part II-Parentification

Rebekah Brown — Wed, 28 Jun 2023 09:37:09 +0000

For part one of this series see What are The Roles in Dysfunctional Families Systems?

A Short Childhood Story

My brother glanced at me as we “read” the emotional temperature of the room. What was tonight going to be like? My mother already had one of those frowns on her face.

As expected, she began her nightly diatribe. “These kids have been terrible all day. I don’t know why they won’t listen. I’m so miserable. I can’t get any one of you to help me do anything.” She turned to me and screamed. “STOP KICKING THAT TABLE LEG.”

On cue, the terrifyingly dark cloud that was my father rolled in. His voice commanded total obedience. “I don’t want to hear it tonight.”

My stomach started to hurt. I looked at the stewed tomatoes sitting in a bowl by my plate. They were disgusting. My mother was now busy fixing one of her favorite treats. Cornbread mushed down in a glass of buttermilk. It looked like vomit. My brother’s face peeped over the round oak table. He was eating as fast as he could in order to get away as soon as possible.

I couldn’t eat another bite. I just couldn’t. The hum of my parents arguing, coupled with my mother’s recitation of all the terrible things I had done that day made me sick. I was so bad, no punishment would be enough for me. I looked at my father. He was terrifying. I made myself take a small bite of food. My stomach really hurt.

My father noticed. “You eat all that food or you’ll get a whipping.”

My mother nodded in happy agreement. The bane of her existence, me, was getting what I deserved. “Yes!” She enthusiastically colluded. She put some “greens” on my plate. I knew my father would make me eat them. They lay like rotten seaweed as my mother poured her favorite condiment over them, vinegar. I promptly threw up into everyone’s plate and all over the dining room table.

I don’t remember much about what happened after that. I do remember being banished to my room. I lay silently in bed that night, surrounded by thick blackness. The hum of a car engine sounded in the distance—headlights nimbly jumping from wall to wall. I squeezed my eyes shut. My brother once told me, “If you let yourself see the lights of passing cars, you’ll have nightmares.” I didn’t need the lights of cars to give me those.

The Beginnings of Parentification

I started with this story in an attempt to explain how the pattern of parentification begins. Constant threat sets the stage for total compliance. As I grew a little older, my role as a scapegoat continued, but it morphed into another role. My father used me as his emotional wife. Though he never touched me in a sexual way, he committed devastating emotional abuse. I remember the warm feeling of his approval as I listened intently to his opinion on a host of favorite topics. My mother grew jealous and her hatred towards me increased. I was pulled into my father’s confidence as he explained his frustrations about his marriage even to the point of sharing intimate details.

As a twelve-year-old, I stood before one of the greatest works of art in Western civilization. Michelangelo’s Pieta sat just inside the gigantic doors of the Vatican. My father enjoyed that trip to Italy as much as I did. Two years before, he had taken my brother to Spain. To an outsider, such glorious opportunities must seem wonderful. No one thought it odd that my mother sat at home while my father took his kids on whirlwind trips to Europe. Parentification was in full swing—we traveled with my father, not my mother.

Serving as a pastor, my father often spoke in various churches throughout the week. I was always the one to accompany him. My mother never attended. I loved the special attention I got as his sidekick.

As the years passed, the pattern became more and more entrenched. I only ever existed to please and agree with my father. It gave him the total control he longed for and was the reason I stayed in the relationship for so long. Why would I leave the only source of “love” I had?

The Pattern of Continued Parentification

The pattern of parentification forces survivors, like you, to learn their needs and desires will not be met. You must learn to deny your innermost thoughts in order to please your parents. This powerful pattern takes on many forms. Perhaps the family system did not provide financially. Maybe you had to work to help the family, were made responsible for raising siblings, or were given chores beyond your capabilities. Maybe your mother relied on you emotionally through a divorce. Whatever form it takes, parentification keeps you quiet about the truth of the family system. It cuts you off from healing and forces you to stay enmeshed in destructive patterns.

You could not and can not help your parents with their emotional pain. You do not have the ability to make your parents happy nor do you have such an obligation. Those feelings were placed in your heart long ago by your parent’s unwillingness to take responsibility for themselves. The protective instinct and obligation you feel towards your parent/parents is a symptom of parentification.

My father set himself up as the “good” parent and used my mother as a target. By the time they divorced many years later, the stage had been set to drag me into the mess and destroy what little emotional life I had left. The only approval I ever received was for doing what my father wanted. Never for being myself.

This is why it is so hard to leave a parental abuser for those who have cultivated compliance over the formative years of life. This is also why the symptoms of Complex PTSD are so profound and so difficult to heal. It is mind control, brain-washing, and emotional destruction of the highest order. And it is done in secret.

None of this is your fault. If I could give you any gift, it would be that you would stop blaming yourself. You’ve suffered long enough. It is time to defy trauma, and embrace joy.

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Rebekah Brown