My Mother Let Me Down And Put My Narcissist Father First Every Time…

I have what on the surface looks like a surprisingly ‘okay’ relationship with my mother, even though she enabled and participated in the emotional neglect, abuse and trauma I received as a child. Ours has always been a relationship built on contradiction:

• She is the mother I would go to for support and reassurance, but instead I would be disappointed, let down and end up feeling worse than before.

• She always took my dad’s side in everything and directed me and my brother not to ‘upset’ my dad, cruelly supporting my father’s narcissistic gaslighting technique in which he took no responsibility for his own behaviour. (‘Don’t upset your dad’ meant not to do or say anything that acknowledged his moods, threats, bullying and manipulation. If you reacted, you were ‘upsetting him’)

• She ignored my dad’s abuse, ignored my feelings, and cast me as a scapegoat, but I still had to rely on her to look after me and keep me safe.

Another annoying contradiction happens when I see my mum and I act like everything is fine, just getting on with life, if you will, even though I may be raging inside or feeling hurt. I often talk about my childhood in therapy sessions. Once I related the time mum stayed silent when my dad told me (8–9 years) and my brother (11–12 years) to go down a dangerous, slippery incline, while he laughed because we had done what he said. Then I see her the next time and the betrayal’s there and yet it is all okay again.

I spoke to my counsellor about the time when mum went to help my dad with something at a bank while we were at the seaside. I was told to wait with my brother across the road from them, only to be approached by a pedophile. I was around 5 and my brother was 8, I stared at the ground the whole time, not wanting to hear or look at the man accosting us. I just know that he was saying things about the way I looked, and that he had light beige trousers on. It still makes me feel sick to think of it. My parents never found out what happened, they were protected by us — You know how I wasn’t allowed to upset my dad? Well, I was allowed to be upset, but I also had to keep it to myself. Me and my brother never said a word; I felt like I was being watched for the whole day and many more after that. It terrified me.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

I have talked to my mum about some of the issues from the past, and she does seem to listen, but often says she does not remember the situations that have most hurt me. If I press her, get frustrated or bring it up again after a period of time she will then act like she is a victim, again one out of the narcissist playbook.

So, I have had to learn to trust myself, my feelings, and memories as I can get no real validation from her, and while she does offer an apology, the subject is then closed.

It can be cathartic to confront your parents and tell them what you experienced, but it can also be un-satisfactory and at worst, retraumatizing — reinforcing the abandonment and leaving you feeling once again bereft.

It is possible that I have had to learn to put my anger aside because a part of me is still trying to get what I needed back then, in an ultimately futile attempt to feel safe and wanted. When she feels criticised my mum goes into a victim-like place, and it’s hard not to adapt and feel guilty for ‘hurting her feelings’. Of course, some people might say that she did her best, and I believe that she did do her best — for herself at that time, to survive a controlling narcissist and manage her family. Unfortunately for me, I have developed complex PTSD, chronic anxiety and panic disorder, and I am going to bloody well say that she is partly to blame — So yeah, our relationship… is complicated.

Attachment theory may say that I have an anxious/avoidant attachment style, marked by worry about being abandoned and dissociation to cope with her emotional unavailability. This makes sense, as my mother was so preoccupied with my father and his wellbeing, that she would consistently emotionally abandon me to take care of his needs.

From birth I was trapped in a situation in which we all tiptoed around my father: A man that held absolute power, yet demanded to be taken care of by everyone, including his own young children.

The implied message was that if I did not adapt fully, be compliant and quiet, I would make him ill, he wouldn’t be able to work and he would either leave us or kill himself — which would all be my fault. (Years later my dad would tell me that he did not want children and that it was my mum’s idea, lovely man.)

While I do not require my mum to take care of my needs anymore, there is still a young part of me that still thinks I am small, and being around my mum is a battle not to slide back into the vulnerable child position again. I could stop seeing her, and limit communication as many people in similar situations do and I can’t say that I haven’t thought about doing so.

I have to remind myself that even though she didn’t help me when I was a child, I am not helpless now. There is a world beyond trying to please her to get some warmth and attention or compromising my life to make myself as invisible and unproblematic as possible.

Yes, I must get on with my life, but I don’t have to forget and pretend I’m okay or take care of mum’s feelings, scared that she will leave me on my own like she has done before. The power has shifted, and I am an adult now despite how scary and small I feel when I have a flashback or panic attack.

I tell my inner child, there is no time machine, we are here now and will never go back, but our body and mind remember sometimes. And I will do my best to help and care for us now.