IF I KNEW THEN WHAT I KNOW NOW

If I knew then what I know now… I would say you’re wrong, I’ve gone this way and things didn’t turn out how I wanted.

If I knew then what I know now, I would tell you straight off that you’re taking the wrong way and that you’re doomed to fail.

If I knew then what I know now, I’d tell you to learn from me and that if you were intelligent, YOU WOULD— no questions asked.

If I knew then what I know now, you’d have a happy life, but I can’t guarantee that.

If I knew then what I know now, I’d tell you that I love you, and I can’t bear to watch you make the same mistake.

If I knew then what I know now, I’d say, “How stupid you are not to learn from me. You saw what it brought me, and yet you chose to go your way.”

Or I’d tell you, “If you really love me and trust me, you’d listen. “

But I didn’t know then what I know now.

And what I know now doesn’t change the things I didn’t know then.

Lives, especially yours and mine, will be shattered, our hearts— their hearts, will be broken, we will cry a million tears, have countless sleepless nights.

We will have to face every failure because WHAT WE KNOW NOW WILL NEVER CHANGE WHAT WE DIDN’T KNOW THEN.

Our hearts, THEIR hearts, will not hurt less because of the wisdom we gained.

That is the price of living. You know more because you hurt more— hurt yourself more, hurt more people, suffer more, feel more guilt.

I will not never tell you “if you’re smart, learn from my mistakes,” because I’ve had people tell me about THEIR mistakes but I did not learn, or even listen, because people are stubborn— what you knew then may not be the same now— “case-to-case–basis shit”.

I love you enough to let you make your own mistakes and be there for you when you realize you did.

No questions asked.  Honest.

THERE IS MORE GLORY IN ACCEPTING ONE’S MISTAKES THAN In ACKNOWLEDGING ONE’S SUCCESS.

I dare not persecute people for trying to live their lives their way. I am human, I’ve been there. YOU SHOULD BE THERE, TOO.

When life goes wrong, DEAL WITH IT.

When you shit yourself because of the “unfairness” of it all, THEN SHIT YOURSELF. YOU MADE THE DECISION. YOU DESERVE IT.

GOOD OR BAD, YOU DESERVE TO LIVE YOUR LIFE THE WAY YOU WANT IT TO.

Own it, so you can tell yourself, when you’re old and grey— THAT YOU DID IT YOUR WAY. The people who knew better, or CLAIMED they knew better, can not make you live longer, or make you suffer less pain, less guilt.

Cheesy, but worth it.

So when the day comes that you realize, “if I knew then what I know now…’

Cry. I wouldn’t mind a wet shirt.

For the woman I used to call mom

When I’m gone

Don’t claim you loved me

When you grabbed every chance to judge me.

Don’t say nice things about me

When you never knew me,

When you never hesitated

To tell me who I was,

or Who I’ll never be.

Say and feel nothing

Because I have nothing to say to,

or feel for you.

I never felt bad about not

Having you, truly.

Because you did not know me

Enough for me to have felt hurt, or betrayed.

Remember how you were so

Quick to criticize me?

How much time and space you wasted

when you could have simply loved me?

Remember the things you said

Just so you would feel

Righteous and bright?

Never cry, even for show,

I won’t need that when I’m dead.

I’m not even sorry

I resented you with my last breath—

It’s easier to go when you

Know you won’t

Be leaving anyone behind.

So I dare you not to grieve!

You loved me

only when I made you proud.

When I was happy

You never cared

Nor shared in my joy,

Never laughed with me.

I learned not to love and need you then,

I have long since stopped

Feeling for you,

And I certainly won’t need

You when I’m dead.

So save me a little respect,

Like you would give your dog,

And spare me the drama

I’m most certain you’ll show.

I liked who I am,

Loved who I was,

And will be happier when I die

Than you’ll ever be while you live.

Sad, isn’t it?

Good for you.

If there’s one thing

I want you to do when I’m gone,

I want you to never forget,

Not even for a while,

How much I hated you,

And how I looked forward

To how much longer I can hate you

Once I’m dead.

AS PROMISED (words of advice to a friend)

It is amazing how in just 3 years I have learned so many things about love and life. I promised you earlier today that I’d write for you. It’s nice to be able to have this much confidence to write about something I deeply understand, and it is a confidence I know you will find.

What is it with parents telling their daughters to marry their first boyfriends? You are just as obedient as I am, if not more. I have been there. You know where my obedience has gotten me. I did not say the things I said because I want you to launch some sort of rebellion, I said those things because there are just some aspects in our lives that should be for us to decide— and choosing your life partner is on top of the list.

I have earned the right to write this entry, and you know what they say about brilliant people— they learn from other people’s mistakes. Please learn from mine, so your heart doesn’t stop smiling.

Before I met Sorba I did not understand life or love fully. When I met him, I realized that I understood so much less than I actually did. I have achieved so much in my life this past year, and I want nothing more than for my friends to have the same.

NEVER IGNORE SOMEONE WHO TAKES YOUR BREATH AWAY. Even if you are in the longest relationship you’ve had in your entire life, when you happen to meet someone who knocks you off of your feet, explore the possibility. I am not suggesting you break it off with your partners. I am saying that if someone can still make you look the other way, however fleeting the moment is, maybe your relationship does not have enough magic to begin with.  I was the most jaded person in the entire universe, and I had long given up on achieving personal happiness. But things can change, even I have changed, because I have the right person by my side.

IF HE TRULY LOVES YOU, HE WILL DOCUMENT YOUR LIFE. Observing you will be the most natural thing in the world for him. Remember the scene in “Shall We Dance?” The greater reason we have life partners is for our existence to be cherished and remembered, even when we are gone. I have found out so many new things about myself through Sorba, including a lot of habits and mannerisms I never knew I had, and I know all of his. It is so funny learning about yourself from another person. In that way, you will always live on.

DOCUMENT HIS LIFE. Know what makes your partner smile, know what makes him laugh and what makes him cry. This is the greatest acknowledgment of his presence in your life. Do not let the wonderful things about him go unnoticed.

YES, YOU CAN FIND EVERYTHING YOU WANT IN JUST ONE PERSON. The reason why a lot of people don’t, is because of a poor sense of self-worth. It is difficult to assert everything we want because we are taught to be happy with what is there, and if we achieve success in one area of our lives, we are not supposed to wish for more. I have always prided myself in being the greatest mother in the world, but now I know I can be an even greater wife.

ASK AND GIVE. Only a very small percentage of people have the ability to read minds, and half of those who do are probably just pretending that they can. It is not wrong to express the desires of your heart to the person you love and to hear the desires of his. I only understood the joys of giving through Sorba. He knows what makes me happy and what turns me on, and that is important to me.

YOU SHOULDN’T BE GUILTY TO BE SO HAPPY. If this were a perfect world, everybody would be happy, but we have, of course, realized that it isn’t. Why should we keep our happiness to ourselves in the presence of others just so they can feel better about themselves and their pitiful lives? If you are given the opportunity to experience the greater heights of happiness, then you must have done something right. All happiness is earned.

LOVE AND LUST CAN CO-EXIST. Love and lust SHOULD co-exist. We are all just educated and thinking animals with the ability to cheat, and lie when caught. How can you love a person when your most primal of needs are not met? This is where shit usually happens.

Strive to be desirable to the other person. Know what he finds desirable. I know that Sorba doesn’t want me to get fat and that he wants me to grow my hair, among others. You cannot just wake up fat and depressed and wonder why your partner left you.

DEMAND FOR YOUR MEN TO STAY DESIRABLE FOR YOU. Cheating, as it is, is painful enough. But when the person who cheated on you is fat, sweaty, smelly, unfashionable, and has grown ugly, it adds so much insult to the injury. Fat men who constantly complain about their wives’ weight gain should feel ashamed to even think of complaining. Do not allow your self-image to be questioned by someone who has not maintained his. Women are visual, too.

STAY IN. It is so difficult for me to get up in the morning when the man I love is sleeping beside me. The bed always stays warm and cozy. Now I am beginning to question the people who have never been late for work, or who have never absented themselves. They are either really dedicated to their jobs, or bored out of their wits with the person they are with. If we could afford to quit working, we would in a split-second. It has almost been a year, and we still cannot get enough of each other. Yes, almost everybody has to work, but we work not for the sheer joy of it, we work to earn money. We earn money to buy food and other necessities so we can continue living. Why do we live? So we can love.

CLAIM YOUR RIGHT TO LOVE AND BE LOVED. I have accepted that I am the most difficult person to live with and to stay in love with. I am stubborn, feisty, and very competitive. I do not run out of excuses for my mistakes. But I also know that I am smart, funny, and I love Sorba in the ways that he wants and needs to be loved. And because I love him, I listen to him and have changed for the better.

I was of the opinion that a woman can lose herself when in love, but I have become whole because of the love that I have found. I have never known so much about myself than I do now. I have claimed my happiness.

I am such a lucky girl!

And for my last piece of advice:  when your car breaks down, TAKE PUBLICTRANSPORTATION <wink!>.

The little girl— she speaks!

For the first time in my life, I will be writing not just for the sole purpose of healing. There is something now that is bigger than the urgency to write to just let off steam. Now I feel accountable to a great number of women, who, just like me, have been hurt and are continually hurting.

I am here for you, too, just as I feel so strongly that I am not alone now.

I cannot promise that everything will be all right. Only you have the power to transcend all the pain in your heart. I just know that it is possible, if you will it. It is a decision you will have to make and stick to if you choose to give yourselves one more chance at happiness and freedom.

Life is short. I learned that cold truth when my father died. I did not want to live life hating myself, or feeling sorry for myself.

I was left crippled and orphaned, but I was able to decide, although it wasn’t easy, that I had given enough of myself to my NM’s insatiable hunger for control, attention, and yes, power. I have let my NM, “E,” chew off more than both of us could take.

I have not spoken to my mother in fifteen months—  the fifteen blissfully, stress-free months have given me the strength to not only look at her, but to see through her and go over the events of my existence with wisdom and hope for my future. If it is going to be a future without her, then that’s well and good. I can not hurt for that anymore. That part of me has long died.

That death, I realize now, was a prerequisite to this new life.

When I talk to my aunts about her, I ask them how they can understand me and cry with me when my own mother can’t. Of course, it’s the NPD. I knew that all along.  But sometimes, even when your heart knows the answer, you wonder if miracles can happen. I was aware, though, that this feeling of longing, this void, is only expected of any human being. To want acceptance and understanding from one’s own mother is not at all shameful.

I am speaking to you, to all of you, to cut yourselves some slack and remind yourselves that you are strong and beautiful, you have gone this far. Life is waiting for you. It can only begin when you’ve come to terms with the fact that your NMs are not your captors anymore. Look around you… the door is wide open.

Step outside and live.

I make it sound so easy, you might say. But you know what? Maybe it is.

LEAVING A LIE

The spider weaves its golden tales

Of moments of glory

Happily counting

The flies that stuck to her web

Securing every arch, every crevice

Criss-crossing every detail

To show that hers was the best, the most intiricate

So her flies would stay.

The spider did not know

Because she never cared to ask

That the flies could have wiggled free

But they didn’t, because they loved her.

The flies, thinking they were loved by the spider,

Unwillingly sprung free one day.

As they took each of their own falls,

They realized that the web was not their home.

There were other worlds,

Other books,

Other tales untold.

The web was not their home!

So they returned to the spider,

Steering clear from the web

And asked the widow, “why?”

The widow’s laugh was haunting, eerie

Amused at how intelligent

The flies had become

Amused that they had only

Figured it out now

“This used to be your home,

You used to be mine

Now that you know,

Please go.”

“Why?” they asked the widow

With torn hearts and bleeding souls

“It would have been wonderful to learn of the beauty outside

from you!”

“Go! i do not have answers,

and even if i did

you will not get them,

not from me.”

“Ungrateful!

ungrateful!

ungrateful!!!”

the widow shrieked as she glared at them

And so the flies flew away, hurt,

With no home,

No truth,

No love.

While they flew closer,

Every minute a little nearer

To a million different choices

For a home

A real home

Where real tales, though not as glorious

Healed their hearts

From the lie they lived and left behind.

bad love

i look into her eyes
and try desperately
to see,
but there is no love.
not even a trace
of love gone sour,
not even when he’s dying…
or trying so hard not to.
i do not spite her.
i know why
someone so wonderful
has turned so cold.
too many hurts
from so many years
can turn a person’s heart
into stone.
and when she tells me
that she did it for us,
i just wish
that she didn’t…
life is too short,
and to have lived it
devoid of the love
and pure joy
that she deserves—
to have lived life
not to have an ounce, even,
of respect or selfishness
for herself,
makes my heart bleed…
i am sad because i love her,
sad because the damage
is irreparable.
i cannot undo it,
no one can.
sometimes i find
the answers to the hardest,
most puzzling questions
about my life
when i look at her.
if she left,
we would’ve understood.
if she were happier,
we would be, too.
but time—
the segments of eternity,
is not for us to bring back
maybe i have become
who i am now
because i don’t want
to die and feel unloved
by a person who i can see, yes,
but who no longer exists in my heart.
she has taught me more lessons
in the words she has left unspoken.
life’s lessons, from
the woman who means the world to me.
i hope to see the love again
before he’s gone,
but it is too late.
i believe i have no love left
for myself to feel
or yearn for,
because i love her
and i love him
to make up for the love
they have ceased
to show each other—
and it is in this
constant struggle
to give equally
that i find
there is nothing left
to feel.
this is who i am today,
and i willingly embrace it.
but i am my own person, too,
and all i want is for them to see
that a lot of things in my life
are negotiable—
but not love…
never love!

Nothing and everything

When you have nothing, you have everything. New doors open, and when one doesn’t have to hold back, any door is as good a start as any. No opinion to seek, no seals of approval to wait for— for the first time, it is just you. A new life, a new start—that’s what you have when you have nothing.

I lost my dad almost three years ago, and I lost more of my family than I could have imagined. I have a younger brother, yes, but he, too, is preoccupied with life. I am happy for him. I lost my mother to herself, which is just as well. It has been too long since she controlled my life. I have a son who is tender of age and of mind, with a heart so malleable and vulnerable to anything my mother feeds it. Somehow, a part of him has been lost, too.

I have nothing, and yet, I have everything. I have Sorba.

Finally, I am free of all that has been holding me back. It is wonderful to finally have every decision of my own doing. The strings have been snipped, and finally I can breathe. All my mistakes will be mine. I can finally own up to them, and be proud to be able to stand up to the world.

I owe no one any explanation. I am free. I have always thought I would live and die in the little sleepy hollow that I live in, but I know better now. I am no longer scared, because there is nothing to be scared about. I have a strong hand to hold me through life.

It is stifling, this freedom. Perhaps it is because of the degree of imprisonment that I have been subjected to for the most part of my life that has made this freedom feel so exhilaratingly overwhelming, and yet so calming, an instant respite from long hours of labor that turned into years. The fact that I can relax and enjoy has suddenly given me the serenity that was lacking in my life. I can almost hear myself think now. I am thinking that what I want is to enjoy the break from the storm and look happily at the new beginning that awaits Sorba and I.

I have no one to answer to, now the chains of my past are just bitter memories. When you never thought the day would ever come, you are blown away with a smile by a soothing breeze.

I am grateful for love, for every opportunity I have to celebrate life— for every soap rub, for every fixed cup of coffee, for every touch, for every hug and for every kiss I get from the man I love.

When you have a grasp of nothingness, you appreciate everything. I am free of my boot camp, free of the many different shackles that have held me back, that have kept me from going forward. Life is finally fair.

I am scared, because I have ceased feeling for the woman I used to call my mother. She did not have the right to live vicariously through me. I am separate from her, but she held me by the neck, and breathed down on it with such a burden it would put Dracula to shame. Not even one bite, but she sucked and ate at me until there was almost nothing left for myself.

I am proud that I have escaped her shadow, her constant hunger for affirmation and for greatness. I do not owe anyone an explanation. I have never asked that of anyone.

I am happy— pure, plain and simple. I know my Dad is happy for me.

DO NOT let HIM tell you WHEN you’re PMS-ing! (yes, your hormones can and may be used against you)

Women beware!!! The convenient excuse, “I’m PMS-ing” seems to be in danger of backfiring on us!

Before I met my mate, I had never thought about the effect (or the lack of it) PMS had on me. He is the only man I have lived with. I had begun to take pills soon after we met, so I simply attributed my burst of emotional drama on those two major factors and the occasional trespassing of women from his past.

My man, always being one for analytical thinking and solution-generating discussions, had pointed out to me that my temper tantrums were attributed to PMS. It wasn’t impossible, of course. How does a woman address this very cold fact?

First, because I was not of the belief that a hormonal imbalance could trigger insanity, I refused to accept it because I would not be run by itty-bitty changes in my body that I could not even see. I always found ways (excuses) for my outbursts.

The second and last probable reaction is an acceptance of the theory. Every magazine ever published has spoken about PMS in one way or the other. Why would I think of myself as an exception to the rule?  There is so much sense, and after a while, you resign yourself to the fact that yes, we may just be slaves to our hormones for a crazy day or two— or three.

But I have veered away from why I really wrote this article. PMS is working against us!!! This is not funny, I tell you. If I happen to have an emotion-filled dialogue with Raffy during THAT time of the month, I observed I am not taken seriously and the discussion is subjected to review upon termination of the freaky hormones. He says it’s the hormones that make me do and say the things I say and do. But all I really want sometimes is to talk to him about something that may be bothering me!

Are there really happy birth control pills? I am now strategizing how to nip this boomerang effect in the bud. Should I just postpone the emotion-filled (if any) questions I might have during my period for after if I want to be taken seriously? Should I try harder to act normal and calm? Should I be more conscious that I fall just within the boundaries of what he considers “good girl behavior?”

I am affected because I am a woman deeply in love. I value what Raffy and I have.  If I can control my “spoiled brattiness” to ensure that we go to bed in each other’s arms and not with our backs facing each other, I will. On the other hand, I am a woman. I will not be dictated by a monthly body-renovation, but I may use it (as we all have done, I am sure) when the moment calls for it because it is, after all, an iron-clad excuse.

Or here’s a better way of looking at it: maybe women are driven to craziness by PMS just as men are driven to the same amount and intensity of insanity by lust. If we look at it this way, then it wouldn’t look or sound that bad. We are vulnerable for a week at the most every month. Men are subject and vulnerable to lust (where they do the most stupid and regrettable things with the most stupid and regrettable women) every single day of their lives! There.

Now I’m done PMS-ing. <wink!>

The good boyfriend’s manual: How to ease porn into your relationship

So you love porn. What man doesn’t? Perhaps it takes you to a different universe, diversifies your fantasies. Makes you feel wicked. You naughty, selfish pervert, you! You tell yourself you aren’t cheating- until you get caught and your girlfriend launches into fits of drama. Again.

That’s when you begin to justify something you’ve convinced yourself was not a relationship crime to begin with. You fiddle into your pocket of a mouth for THINGS TO SAY WHEN YOUR GIRLFRIEND CATCHES YOU WATCHING/ENJOYING PORN, hoping that she just might buy your stupid, free-flowing excuses, coated with flattery on the side, of course.

“She reminded me so much of you.”

“I missed you. You weren’t here.”

“A pop-up.”

“I was meaning to ask you to watch it with me.”

“I wanted to learn new stuff so I could surprise you. Darn it! There goes my surprise!”

A string of lies will not cleanse you of your sin, as you have probably learned from your elementary Religion/Theology teacher. You would only have taught her that she can lie to you, too. It will be wise to finally put the golden rule to use.

I’ll tell you what all women know: we know that it’s all bull. If you managed to get away from the heat, it’s because we let you. We let you get away with it because maybe, we happened to catch glimpses of your porn, a lot maybe, we got turned on, and surely, we needed a quick fix to soothe our quivering flesh. You’re so fine, she’ll say. And you always believe her. Sick, gullible pervert.

So from a woman to you men, do it the intelligent way and ease your women into porn.

1. Know her sexual fantasies. Women have fantasies, too- ones that would put yours to shame. Hidden in the deepest recesses of her saintly façade lies a reckless whore waiting to be abused. We know how a little dirt can go a long, long way.  So pry a little. She wants you to.
2. Do something about it. TOGETHER. Sure, I can imagine how it’s fun for you men to go on sexual mind-escapades without your partners (and I can also imagine you’d be cool with this too, if you weren’t in hers), but remember to never underestimate women. For wherever sexual landscape you’ve trekked, your partners may have soared and seen the view from just about any angle. Over and over again.
3. Encourage her fantasies and participate in them. It takes a lot out of a woman to let go and actually reveal this side of her, so use it to your benefit. It is free and yours for the taking. Also, always know that performance, YOUR PERFORMACE is key. You cannot expect to enjoy the benefits of her transformation without being her own man-whore, too, can you? Now on to the application.
4. Let her navigate the porn sites. Give your woman the freehand to explore the wonders of the porn world. Stop being a backseat navigator. This will only irritate her. She has a brain. She figured you were sneaking behind her back watching porn, didn’t she? She’ll know how to use it in this department. Why, chances are, she’ll enjoy it with a lot more intensity than you already do.
5. Lie naked together while you watch your porn. Pour some drinks. Allow her to take it all in, no questions asked, for at least 30 minutes or so—so she can take it all off. Watch and enjoy her watching. Notice and take mental note of every involuntary body movement. It will come in handy later. Savor the promise that what was just inside her head moments ago could very easily be around yours moments from now. When the 30 minutes have come and gone and you have something to say to her, refrain from sounding too excited. Better yet, don’t say anything at all. You have just witnessed an epiphany.
6. Make her pick a favorite porn star. I’ve always liked Sara Stone and Laura Lion, before she got her tits “amp-ed.” Give her someone she can identify with, or someone she can fantasize on. You’ll be amazed at the excited calmness in her voice when the two of you finally discuss porn- something you thought would never happen in a million years. You have finally freed yourself from sin, finally on your way to travel the filthy world of porn with a clean conscience.
7. Wait for her to show you the new things she’s learned. Think of yourself as the mighty king, listening to an eager slave’s confident tales of her journey to carnal wisdom. Never lose sight of the fact, though, that kings will always know more than their slaves, so indulge her. They say newbies do it better. They are definitely more enthusiastic, to say the very least. So bask in all your naked glory and surrender.
8. Do not just sit and be quiet. Sure, be careful not to salivate, but keep in mind that women cannot be fooled. Give credit where credit is due. Be specific, though. Firm ass. Perky tits. Great abs. Toned back. Of course, the idea of actually fucking little Ms. Porn Star HAS crossed your mind, perhaps at least ten times the last few seconds (she knows it, too), but always keep the comments precise, flippant. As in cheating, women are just as wary and aware, if not more so, of the woman you never talk about as the one you actually talk about.
9. Last and most important, DISCIPLINE YOUR DICK. One surefire way to keep it safe is to touch your woman BEFORE you even start watching your porn, or to ask her to touch you. This way, she can give herself credit for THAT boner, though you both know better.

Congratulations on your very own nymphomaniac! Now all you have to worry about is how to keep her off of porn and off of you!

daughters of bitches: BROKEN BUT BREAKING FREE (Living with Narcissistic Personality Disorder)

The journey to self-discovery is painful. It is a dark hole that can suck all of you in, if you let it. This article is about my lifelong dance with narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). My ex-husband had it. My son may have it (it can be genetically passed on). The most painful truth of all, though, is that my mother may be its poster girl.

The more I read and know about NPD, the more hurt I feel. I now have answers to all the questions I always had about my mother and her queer ways of showing her love for her children. The pain is piercing, but it is something that I have to face because I cannot be an effective partner and mother if I do not settle the feelings of remorse I have against my own mother.

My mother loves to dance. I was her extension, a constant supply of her need for self-affirmation. I remember how she would make me dance in front of an audience even if I didn’t want to. As a child, I had no other choice but to follow her wishes. I would dance with tears streaming down my face. Of course she saw that I was crying, but she didn’t mind. I thought it was downright mean.

Fast forward to the present, when at 31, I had enough strength to confront her about this: all I got was a chilling laugh, and her telling me that “she just wanted me to experience the joys of dancing.” I did not love to dance. THAT WAS HER PASSION. It was something I wanted to do in my own time. So I sat there, dumbfounded and feeling sorry for myself, while she looked at me in her cold, crazy way. I felt like a child all over again.

People with NPD have no empathy. If in some instances they appear to be emphatic, it is not without expecting something in return. NPD-infected people have no regard for other people’s feelings. As her child, it was as if a spear had been driven right through my heart. Once again, I did what I was expected of me, and what I had been used to: hurt in silence.

My mother delights in attention, I don’t. She loves beauty pageants and everything that comes with it, I don’t. My mother trains children and young women in our province to become queens. As her daughter and as a teenager in the mid 1990s, I had to win the same pageant she had won 20 years ago. I did not want that for myself, but I woke up everyday, to her nagging voice and yes, sometimes even to spanking, just to train with her.

She loved me when I won. Thinking back, I might have subconsciously recognized the pattern even when I was a young girl: crowns+sashes+trophies+medals (or any of which) = my mother’s love. She would have pictures of me in her bag, a trophy to show to everyone. I felt proud that I had made my mother happy. But it was not about me, I now realize. It was about her.

The more reluctant the source of the NPD-stricken person is in giving in to the narcissist’s whims, the better. If the act is given to her with the willingness and longing to make her happy, then the act itself becomes unappealing, and she moves on to yet another nastier and more self-serving demand in the guise of a request. That is why she never gushed over letters or poems that I had written for her.

My mother was unhappy in her marriage. Her marriage was far from perfect, but as an outsider to their partnership, I saw that it was still a treasure of a marriage. My father loved her in ways that I know now must have been very difficult. My mother is impossible to please. She always wants something, so to speak, YESTERDAY.

A year after my dad’s death plus a new man in her life, she refuses to let go of what she calls her “trauma” to give her heart space for some chance at happiness. I believe that she has to cling on to that trauma because if she ever let it go and forgave my father in the process, she would be left with no excuse for her spoiled ways.

I cannot and will not love how she is when she displays her NPD, I refuse to. I have decided to love myself more now.

My mother thinks she is more beautiful and talented than most. My dad always reminded me that there will always be people greater and lesser than I am, at all things. That has kept me grounded. Whenever we watch television and see somebody pretty or good at what she’s doing, my mother would not see that person and would chose to relate that person’s greatness to her own.

My mother made me wear the most inappropriate things when I was a child. Even if she knew I was getting teased in school because of the massive earrings I had to wear during Wednesdays (beginning at age 10) as accents to my pre-chosen outfits, she would have none of it. I remember telling her that the girls at school hated me because of my outrageous accessories, but she just told me that they were jealous and that I should be proud of myself. At age 31, and even then, at ten, I had no hunger for affirmation or any kind of attention from others. I just wanted to be normal and to have friends.  I was happy with the poems and articles I wrote using my dad’s old typewriter.  I liked being alone. In retrospect, all my written works were very dark and bleak for any child. Maybe that was how my mom’s NPD manifested in me: I wrote about monsters and mothers who left their infants to starve and drown. I wrote about moss-covered huts by the beach that never caught the light of day.

My mother goes through my personal things. Even as a child, I had no privacy because my mother has no respect for privacy. Yet she is very secretive about her own life.  The doors in our rooms were useless fixtures, as well as the locks. There was no knocking, just the very familiar and obtrusive clinking of keys. Narcissists do not recognize the autonomy of others.  They hear only what they want to hear and will only appear to be interested/take active interest in things that quench their constant thirst for self-love.

My mother has a new boyfriend, and she is teaching him that it is okay to abuse and hurt her. As 52-year-olds, I expected the both of them, or at least one of them to be mature enough to talk to us about where their relationship was going. We needed to know how to treat their relationship. We make up so much of my mother, but her boyfriend did not understand it. Perhaps he chose not to, to ensure a quicker, literal “flight of fancy”. I insisted, and my brother and our partners were there to talk to “the guy.” He was a few breaths short of admitting boldly that his “Casanova days” were not yet over. I was shocked to see that it was okay with my mom. I was shocked to see that she almost encouraged it. I was shocked to learn that had I not asked if he had a child outside of marriage, my mom would not know. How can he claim to love her?

How can she claim to love him after that night and question our intent in talking to the guy? She will never see that we want the best for her. But she will always have the tendency to be abused, because then she can live dramatically. She almost shuns away happiness, and I am inclined to think that she likes making us worry, because then there would be a big fuss about HER.

I just hope she will be spared from the hurt, because this will give her something new to complain about, something to be “traumatized” about, for her own sake and for ours, because we will always be the major recipients of her “disappointment.”

I hope that she makes him her new “source.” That would be fun to watch.    

My mother always made us hate our father in order for her to feel loved. She never acknowledged the goodness that we saw in our dad. She always had a ready excuse or version of even our own happy experiences. It was unheard of, to talk about our father in a wistful tone. Once, quite recently, when I told her to stop complaining about my now-dead father and explicitly told her that “you can no longer use my dad as an excuse for anything bad/disastrous that happened to you since his death until today,” and that she should have left my father a long time ago, she glared at me ala-telenovela villainess and whispered, in graduating tones, three times, yes three (for drama, I guess), “ungrateful… UNGRATEFUL! UNGRATEFUL!!!” in front of everybody. She told me I was ungrateful because I did not appreciate the fact that she stayed and made sure that our family was intact.

Quite unfairly, she proceeded to discuss how my son had been affected by my broken marriage. I will never regret leaving, and will always be proud of my decision to leave my child’s father, another narcissist who takes pride in his light saber collection. My son may already have NPD, that is why I am trying so hard to understand this disorder.

I then told my mother to look at both my brother and I, her children, and see how broken we had become. As young as we are, we have both gone through failed marriages, because we refuse to grow old sad and bitter like her that is why we will never be acceptable in her eyes. We will never be enough, no matter what we achieve in the future.

If I am proven right about my life’s decisions, I expect no vindication from her. I have learned to get the motherly affirmation from my mother’s sisters because I never got that from her.

It was unfair for my mother to stay with my father just so people would not judge her. It was unfair to wash our family’s dirty laundry in public just so she would appear to be the martyr who deserved an award for her patience and her perseverance.

I can go on and on about the weird things and the nice things (which I now realize are things she may have done to get something in return) about my mother.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my mother and I appreciate all the things she did for us. I have chosen to just enjoy her in her “mommy moments” which are few and in between. I have made a decision to love her as my mother, and be apathetic to her when she starts being narcissistic. It is not as if I have another way of attacking the problem. IT IS THE ONLY WAY for me to save my sanity and be whole for the man I love and for my son.

I have stopped feeling frustrated when she refuses to see that she has hurt me by something she said and did. I do not take it against her anymore. I just see the NPD that has become so much a part of her.

The only way to still love and have respect for one’s self in the presence of a narcissist is distance. And since that is an impossible option because my son and I love her, I have chosen to just love her in her lucid intervals, during unguarded moments when I see (or choose to believe to see) that she just loves us— pure, plain and simple.

Physical detachment is impossible, so I deal with her NPD with an emotional distance.

I write this because I have to. I write this because I want to heal. I write this because I want to help other children (young or old) who may be hurting or are continually being hurt by their narcissist parents. There is a reason behind every narcissist’s act. It’s not as if they refuse to see their imperfections—they simply can not. They have decided that they are perfect, therefore making them unable to identify mistakes as their own doing.

I have accepted the harsh realities of my childhood. I have accepted that my home life was told to me, even as I witnessed it first-hand, through my narcissist parent’s eyes. I am resigned to the fact that I will never get an apology from my mother. I have accepted the fact that I have lived a lie, and that I was taught to believe her stories if I wanted her to feel loved, but now I know I have other options.

I am choosing to leave the lie I lived. I am plunging ahead, with eyes wide open, to the curse that is NPD. I will not defend it or be embarrassed about it. I will not deny it. Everyday, I will renew this decision, because it is a difficult and very self-sacrificing one. I am now taking the first step to healing.

All will be well soon.