Narcissistic Granny: Dancing the Granny Two-Step (Pt. 2 of 3)

Imagine to yourself the most judgmental person you know. Then double it. They live alone in the rarefied air atop their Ivory Tower of Holiness, staring down in righteous condemnation at those pathetic lifeforms below (i.e. the entire human race). No detail is too small nor insignificant to escape their withering, frigid disapproval.

Yep, that's my Grandma. But you've already met her in my article, Narcissistic Granny: It's a Multi-Generational "Thang."


Self-Care: Essential After Narcissistic Abuse (Pt. 1 of 2)

On Valentine's Day we devote ourselves to those we love most — our husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends and yes, parents and children. But what about the one we neglect the most, berate the most and shame the most: ourselves. Surely, a little of that love should trickle down to us, too.

In The Screwtape Letters, the great C. S. Lewis wrote, "When they [humans] have really learned to love their neighbours as themselves, they will be allowed to love themselves as their neighbours.”

I suspect the majority of children from narcissistic and otherwise dysfunctional homes have perfected the art of loving and caring for our neighbors. But we haven't got the first clue on how to love and care for ourselves.

So this Valentine's Day, let's chat about self-care.

To jump to Part 2, click here!


False Guilt: #SorryNotSorry

Dear Parents, I'm sorry you can't accept me for who I am. You drove me away and now, you're missing out on a wonderful daughter and son-in-law.

Oh, you wanted a baby in 1980. You just didn't want me. You wouldn't have accepted any baby. For you cannot accept yourself. Because no one ever accepted you.

Through no fault of your own, you're both the Scapegoats of your families. It's a role you were assigned....


A Narcissist Drove Me to OCD…then Forbade It

Without my OCD stress relief, I knew I'd explode. Dad's rages drove my stress level off the charts. Then he forbade dermatillomania, my only stress relief. It was torturous! And I wasn't the only one in agony.

Once upon a time, there was a happy little family. A narcissistic Daddy who ran the show. A sweet, codependent Mommy ("Little Warden") who did everything he said. And their sweet, obedient Little Project, the apple of their eye, who provided tons and tons of narcissistic supply. Me.

Things limped along pretty well for the first fifteen years, if you overlook Dad's routine blackout rages. But sooner or later, the proverbial shit will hit the proverbial fan. They never told me exactly what happened, but I have my suspicions.

Suddenly, this nice normal family went from happy and peaceful to Hurricane Narcissist...overnight. Cracks and fissures appeared in the foundation of Dad and Mom's marriage. Everyone's stress went through the roof.