Dealing (Finally!) with a Narcisstic Parent

Hey, my favorite irreverent adoptee started a new blog called "Joy's Division." Check it out...she's bracing herself for Xmas quality time with the folks. www.joy21.wordpress.com

Here's what winning the war against a narcisstic parent looks like:

Parent calls three times on a Sunday demanding immediate attention to a non-emergency. You say, calmly, "I'm busy with the kids but I'll take care of it tomorrow when businesses are open." That is unsatisfactory. Parent complains to director of resident relations at assisted living facility and gets her involved. Director calls me, we have brief discussion, then she relays message: "Your dad wants you to call back the second we're finished talking, etc., etc."
I refused. He can wait until our (daily) evening phone call.

In the old days, I would have went on and on trying to explain that I'd spent endless hours resolving this health insurance issue and that I was on top of things, then I would have fretted the rest of the day and immediately called back my dad to argue and reassure.

Some readers will point out that my dad suffers from some dementia. He does. But this is not new behavior nor is it significantly worse. It is consistent with his behavior as far back as I can remember.

Success means letting go. It means understanding that there's no changing a narcissist, just controlling your reaction to them. It means not wasting energy trying to please them, explaining reality to them or getting so wound up that you can't be in the moment with the people you truly care about. It's understanding that if the narcissist is your parent, that they aren't parent material and don't bother expecting them to ever act like one.

So how did I do it?

It took active concentration modifying learned responses to his endless bids for attention. It took grittng my teeth, at first, and listening to him, pretending to sympathize, but not allowing myself to get emotionally involved or invested in whatever crisis he was having. I learned to listen, then shrug, say poor guy, then quit thinking about him and went back to whatever I was doing.

It takes lots and lots of practice and failed attempts. But I'm here to tell you, EMOTIONAL DETACHMENT from a narcissist is POSSIBLE! Hurray. Thank you therapist! Thank you self-help book, "Children of the Self-Absorbed: A Grown-Up's Guide to Getting Over Narcissistic Parents" by Nina W. Brown.

What was difficult is realizing my dad was a narcissist in the first place. I just thought he was pathetic and child-like. I remember wishing, as a kid, that he acted like a real man, with some dignity, like other fathers. His behaviors were off, like that of a slightly goofy teenager. When friends came over, he wanted to be the center of attention. When we were alone, my dad would talk and talk and talk and when I tried to say anything, his eyes would glaze over and he'd quickly interrupt. I grew up thinking spoken sentences were four words long.

It was always all about him. His problems. His needs. His pain. When he got sick at Disneyland, it was my fault because I wanted to go on Space Mountain. When I was ten and had a growth on my forehead, he could hardly work because he was so worried and didn't I realize what I was putting him through. When I told him I had a scary breast lump, he fell apart and asked who would take care of him if I died. When he fell down last night at the assisted living facility, it was because I called too early and he rushed for the phone and it was my fault.

Did I mention he has no empathy?

So here's the other problem. Being adopted presents its own unique challenges. Being adopted by a child-like narcissist makes much more difficult the tasks of development and maturation.
Many of us Closed Era adoptees already deal with an incomplete understanding of identity and "self."

When we have a self-absorbed parent who sees us as just as extension of themselves, well, we're really screwed. For a long time. Until the light bulb goes off and we see the parent for what they are: a narcissist. It's a form of slavery, really.