narcissistic mother.

chapter 1. Narcissist mother.

Mother's Day 2001. I stood in front of the racks of cards, staring at them. I picked them up one by one: "A Mother's Heart Makes a Home." No. "Mother, You Are My Best Friend." Um, no way. "For a Precious Mom." I wish. "For a Mom who sacrificed so much." Nope, nope, nope.

After 23 years, I finally knew why trying to pick a card out for my mother was impossible. Every card was a lie. Nothing I picked up could explain my mother. After 23 years, I finally knew. I am the daughter of a narcissist. They don't make a card for that.
As a child, I knew my mom was different from other mothers. There was nothing nurturing about her. She didn't give hugs, she didn't wipe tears, she didn't help with homework or go to parent-teacher conferences. For the most part, she didn't interact with me at all unless she was angry with me. I could never be certain of her mood, and each morning I woke up with a pain in my chest, wondering what the day would hold. I envied other little girls who had a mom who actually wanted to spent time with them. While other girls complained when their mom wanted to take them out for ice cream and cut short our play time, I longed for that. While my friends were embarrassed when their mothers taught them about sex or periods, I was handed a book-there was no talk.

My mother did, however, shop for me. I had the prettiest clothes from the best stores. Other girls had plastic dolls from Venture or K-Mart; I had really cool Bratz dolls and barbie dolls. A friend receive a small Pollyanna pocket , for her birthday that I adored, and on my birthday, I received one that was ten times cooler. larger. I assumed this was her way of showing me love. I always stayed on her good side because if I wasn't, there were beatings and verbal abuse. I learned to be quiet, and I learned to anticipate and read moods. And I learned that my feelings should be kept inside-because the feelings of others were more important, and how I appeared to everyone else was important to my mother. I had to be the smartest, the best dressed, the most polite. Instead, I became afraid to speak or interact with others because I didn't feel I could ever be good enough.