Catching the Train writes here about other sites.

From Torienne’s Characteristics of Narcissistic Mothers 
 

1. Everything she does is deniable.

In my mother’s case, she’s not quite so refined. Or maybe she’s more refined: whatever I can pinpoint is my fault, because my standards were too high or there was too much pressure on her or I didn’t support her enough. Or she blames my father.

She rarely says right out that she thinks you’re inadequate.

She compliments for being not-completely-inadequate.

She will carefully separate cause (your joy in your accomplishment) from effect (refusing to let you borrow the car to go to the awards ceremony)

Not sure what she does these days, but she used to connect joy to some negative, sinful character quality. And talk my father into seeing it the same way, and then say that HE told her punishment was in order.

It is impossible to confront someone over their tone of voice, their demeanor or they way they look at you, but once your narcissistic mother has you trained, she can promise terrible punishment without a word. As a result, you’re always afraid, always in the wrong, and can never exactly put your finger on why.

That’s pretty much true. I got a lot of flack for her general disappointment in her life.

will punish you for telling anyone else what she’s done.

Again, she’s brilliant at getting my father to dole out lashes.

She’ll slam you to other people, but will always embed her devaluing nuggets of snide gossip in protestations of concern, love and understanding (“I feel so sorry for poor Cynthia. She always seems to have such a hard time, but I just don’t know what I can do for her!”)

Omigod. So true. And she welcomes the opportunity to garner sympathy from her friends.

Found this site byTorienne, on characteristics of a narcissistic mother.

Wow.

Only skimmed it, but it explains things I’ve thought I was crazy for being hurt by.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks. 

Isolating pretty much completely.

Granite carver e-mailed in response to the detailed RFP I sent him.

Am going through some motions of moving forward, but am really so incredibly stuck.

Should call doctor my primary care guy sent me to for 2nd opinion … since I don’t have it in me to go back to primary care guy after last visit.

I’m showered, dressed and my hair is done.  to leave the house I should probably stop crying. 

just e-mailed W saying that when he doesn’t call or pick up the phone, it’s b/c he’s pi$$y; when other people do this, they might be just too weak and in too much pain. 

why can’t I just accept that he’s going to keep playing his aggressive helplessness, no matter what?  whenever things get bad, he can’t handle it.  why in my life do people I’ve helped avoid helping me by becoming “overwhelmed” on the rare times I ask?  how the freak hard is it to help me structure some paperwork, when I can’t see straight?  I save his @$$ by pointing out he could lose his license for continuing certain cases, and prodding him to return the client’s money and withdraw.  but he can’t find furniture for the room I rented that’s giving him a huge tax break? (ha, talk about something for which he could lose his license.)  he wants all the benefits and isn’t doing a bloody thing to keep his golden donkey alive.  I give him good-sized cases and do the literature research for them and pay promptly, and he feels the time he spent working is a contribution to the relationship?  how stupid am I?

at least, I got him to xfer ‘his’ cemetery plot back to me.  he’d pushed me to buy the plots a few years ago.  he didn’t want to be buried with his family and only have a 25-year slot.  so I bought the three lots open next to the ones my father owns, figuring a sibling might want to buy one later.  when the deeds were being made out, I asked which lot he wanted.  he chose the one in the middle ’so he’d be next to me’ (gag – that’s his idea of charming).  it was something he wanted so much, but he never said thank you.  until 6 months ago when I berated him for taking it for granted.  I let him believe I would help him buy his own plot, since they’re only for residents/former residents.  then I told him the sexton said he’d have to do that in person.  whatever – if W goes there, my father will ’sponsor’ him for a plot.

rubbish. i have to buy groceries.

isolation worsening.  got myself to stammtisch thing last night, faked a bit of cheer, sat next to jp and told him I wasnt doing well but he’s all cheerleader, live-your-life.  whatever.  I started crying there, fortunately dried it up.  today the phone annoyed me, w called a few times but what would I say to him? he asks crap like ‘how are you’ when he knows I have no answer for that question. or he wants to talk about his work stuff and is all happy or whatever and there’s no room for me anywhere.  if I’m so bloody valuable as his freaking coach and confidante, he could have thought about that earlier. 

yesterday about one case, where I’ve done most of the work, he said, there’s no golden donkey.  meaning his client wants to milk her employer.  I said, yeah there are, but people beat them and don’t feed them and then they curl up and die.  he thought I was talking about the way his client treats him.  as we got off the phone he thanked me for my work and I said, yeah that’s the kind of donkey I am. 

told jp about the one idea I’ve ever really had for MY life and he kind of trashed it.  he has no idea and I’m not basing decisions on joe-average’s idea of how to do things, esp. not when joe normal is all about life in DC and is going to be admin guy all his life.  he bitches a bit that the stammtisch isn’t his level intellectually, but, whatever.  and he told me once it was an issue w/ his ex-wife that she wasn’t comfortable in his social circle, but his table manners wouldn’t be really welcome everywhere.  when jp left, a new guy came over and sat next to me.  kind of a male-sl-t if I read him correctly, the kind Ann Coulter would tag as a latent homosexual.  college-bschool-Americorps-law school = 10 years, 2 yrs city job, then joined army.  pushed to go running tonight.  some ppl really think others just drop everything, so bizarre.

have barely left the house the last few weeks.  when I have, it’s draining.  being home sux too, house situation is horrible.  the hearing is coming up, sort of dreading how long that could draw out.  the case has never been heard at the highest court so technically if the judge attempts to make me carry any bit of it, I could appeal. 

have energy but can’t really stop crying.  wrote stone carver w/ pr idea, since my stone budget is really under the level of work he does.  should mail letter.  am dressed, have make-up on but leaving house =nightmare.  maybe I should see a movie but there are phone calls to make etc.  I just don’t know what phone calls, all’s a haze.

Thriver aka marj writes here about her mother and the absolute lack of attachment.

I see that in myself.  I have this pattern of getting up the courage to contact someone with whom I’ve experienced positive contact.  Then I don’t return their calls or e-mails.  Sounds like that could be an attachment thing.  I don’t know how that works.

Some of my emotional parts are super-capable of high performance in healthful senses.  But whatever’s responsible for attachment … is hiding under the bed.

The alum magazine for the women’s institute of my alma mater came yesterday.

Flipped through the class notes section.  Amid updates about books published, companies run and countries analyzed, a woman wrote that she had two little boys.  She said she would welcome tips on how to make time stand still and how to simplify life.  She sounded really overwhelmed. 

Flash back to all the frustrated looks, exhausted groans, tired sighs my mother directed at my brothers.  And how much they suffered, how open their wounds still are. 

My mother never took on adult responsibility.  She was so angry that I held her to the standards of, well, a parent.  But we needed her as a mother, and she wasn’t there for us.  Sure, she did a lot.  Diaper changing and breastfeeding, that she managed.  As soon as a baby was out of diapers and weaned, she got another one, and the old baby was turned out as a stray for the oldest kids to foster.  Am I really supposed to rise up and call her blessed for the years she sat in an armchair on an oxytocin high? 

Last year, the boss decided that I should go out and sell.  Yeah, this grey-suited stutterer was supposed to woo some customers. Not that I really stutter, but I couldn’t sell cub-scout porn to a certain former singer who’s very fond of cosmetic surgical procedures.  I guess all the licensing issues, tax stuff and strategic partnering was supposed to take care of itself.  

Okay, so I called in some favors, got some sizeable RFPs.  All were declined.  Even the projects that were practically clones of things the company does regularly, what I brought in was supposedly “not a match” for the company’s expertise.  When I argued this on a technical level, they wrote me up for being over-involved with the engineering and production side.  And said I was socially ”incompetent.”  (Ha, we know I’m socially incompetent, but they didn’t mean the incompetence that makes my life not worth living.)  Then they threw in an area of the business in which I had zero experience.  No licensing or high-tech required, I just had to move goods.  Numbskull that I am, I bulldozed through and made THAT happen. 

Shortly before I jumped ship, the boss told a certain sales guy to close on the big bulk projects I was wrapping up.  The guy showed up to one dark-suit place in a polo shirt and jeans, without an appointment.  At the other place, he’d had an appointment but came 2 hours late, unshaved, unshowered, unapologetic and fully uninformed about my dealings with the firm to date.  These two prospects called me and said they’d had very strange contact with this guy and weren’t sure what the company was up to, so they were stepping back.  The guy reported he’d been sent away empty-handed.  So it looked like I’d been blowing smoke.  The company also had him try to make offers on the RFPs on which they’d told me they couldn’t deliver.  Apparently they’d found it obscene that I expected commission on top of my manager’s salary.  Whatever, people. 

The boss was irate that I a) found out about this, and b) questioned his tack.  You know, I accept that this company felt that a mid-50s man with “industry experience” is always a better choice than a 30s-woman who went to some east-coast college and is thereby clueless.  I’d have bitten that sour apple and given them some tips on how to prep the guy.