by Band Back Together | Aug 24, 2015 | Encephalocele, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Neural Tube Defects, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder |
This morning, once again, I woke up with my pillow soaked with tears, the sobs still fresh in my throat. I wiped my face off with my sleeve, as I sat up, trying to remember what dream I’d had, what had made me so bitterly sad that I’d wept in my sleep loudly enough to wake myself. Nothing. My memory banks came up with nothing.
I sighed as I changed my pillow case. Normally I dream about new and exciting ways to mock John C. Mayer, and although John C. Mayer could have been the reasons for my sobs (Hey, “Your Body is a Wonderland” is a terrible song), I don’t think it was.
This is the fifth time in as many days I’ve woken up with a wet pillow case. On the rare times I can fall asleep (a hearty fuck you goes out to insomnia), this is what I’m repaid with: night terrors.
Amelia’s appointment yesterday with the EI evaluators went as expected. She’s ahead in some areas, behind in others. It’s the medical equivalent of a push and it’s certainly not something that keeps me up at night, her inability to perform quadratic equations and properly discuss string theory aside.
I’ve managed to buy her a birthday present and pink cupcake mix for her birthday on Friday (still haven’t done anything for a big blowout bash), both of which should delight her. I’m thrilled that she’s going to be thrilled by this. Everyone should be so lucky as to have pink sparkles on their birthday cuppity-cakes.
And yet I’ve spent the last couple weeks talking through clenched teeth, the most minor of infractions setting me off, sending me into a blind panic. A dead weight has settled onto my chest there’s an omnipotent feeling of cosmic not-rightness. Everything feels wrong. Nothing is wrong, yet everything feels wrong.
My feelings make no sense to me.
I know what this is. It’s PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. I hate to even write those words out because I see them and I know someone is going to be all, “YER NOT A VET, YEW WHOR,” and then I’m going to feel worse because I’m already feeling guilty about feeling the way I do. I have the Girl That Lived and still I have PTSD? Certainly, I do not have a right to those feelings.
And yet I do. I’m as entitled to my feelings as the next person
Really, I liked it better when I pretended I had no feelings.
by Band Back Together | Aug 21, 2015 | Abuse, Anger, Anxiety, Depression, Fear, Feelings, Infidelity, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Parenting, Psychological Manipulation |
As a you child I was very sensitive and very petite. My family saw that as a weakness and did what ever they could to put me down and make me feel bad about myself. Until a week ago, I always thought the biggest bully was my sister. She would physically and mentally abuse me. She had to control me in every way she could.
So in order to protect myself from this type of abuse, I grew up to only want one thing …to never feel anything ever again. I wanted to be able to turn my emotions on and off. I became very heartless, unloving, less sensitive, and kept to myself. I never shared my feelings, and I eventually despised the word “feelings.” It made me want to gag. I did achieve this goal. I trained myself so well to never feel anything at all. But I became depressed and had anxiety that increasingly got worse. My dad sent me to a therapist, blaming my mom and sister for the cause of all this.
After a year and a half of therapy, I finally realized my dad was the problem the entire time. It was in therapy where I first discovered gaslighting, and when I finally realized he did that to me, I was very upset. Then I was told he had the traits of a narcissist. As I read about that, I became enraged. I couldn’t believe my own father would do this to me for his own personal benefit. He let me believe for so long that there was something wrong with me.
My friends always loved my dad and mom and wanted them to be their parents. My dad was a different person around friends and my moms side of the family. During my parents divorce, my dad manipulated everyone into thinking my mom was to blame for the divorce, when my dad was the one cheating. He had us all fooled for a personal, manipulative game.
My friends always wondered why I acted so different around adults compared to how I was with my friends. I just acted like it was a good girl act, but even I didn’t know why I ever did it until now. I never knew how much my dad controlled me with his narcissistic ways. And I just makes me so angry that I want to punch a hole through the wall.
My dad always says that he loves me more than I’ll ever know, and I broke his heart every time I tried to stay with my mom. It’s all a mind game with him, and it just blows my mind. It makes my even more angry that I never had a normal childhood because of him. I had to grow up too fast and be more mature than anyone I knew. He controlled my personality, and therefore, I could never be my true self. Even now, knowing all this, I am still too afraid to confront him. I’m too afraid to never see him again for what he might do.
by Band Back Together | Aug 15, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Family, Fear, Feelings, Loneliness, Prenatal (Antenatal) Depression, Sadness, Stress |
Maybe it’s not common, maybe it’s commonly forgotten, maybe I’ll feel too ashamed to even post this, but pregnancy isn’t what I expected.
Now don’t get me wrong, I KNEW what to expect, the nausea and fatigue, the moodiness and what not, but I wasn’t prepared.
I wasn’t prepared to shy away from my friends and family, to want nothing but my bed and books. I guess I’m still kinda me, but I am a me I haven’t been for a long time, a me I thought I grew out of. It’s not that I’m not happy, because I couldn’t feel more love for this child or for my husband that I do now, it’s just that I am also sad. I am tired and sick and rather than get better as I get closer to my second trimester it’s gotten worse.
Am I going to be like my mom? 40 weeks of throwing up just because the wind blew in my face? Dear God, I hope not.
The worst part is that I can’t see the end of this. I’m not miserable mentally, but physically I am and it’s draining the reserves I have in my brain to separate my logic and my emotions.
Part of it is that I am, frankly, a little tired of worrying about everyone’s opinions, preparing myself for arguments before they have the chance to arise. It’s to the point I don’t even want to talk to anyone about babies, birth, shots, slings, ANYTHING.
Unfortunately, I care what people think, and caring what they think but knowing that I am going to do what I think is best in the end, causes me to take things personally and feel a lot of unnecessary anger. Anger makes me tired.
It’ll pass and in a few weeks I’ll be laughing at this post, calling myself dramatic and eating 14 cinnamon rolls because that’s my new favorite pastime. At least, I fucking hope so.
Until then, this is me being honest, and begging you not to say “I told you so.”
by Band Back Together | Aug 15, 2015 | Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Estrangement, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Personality Disorders, Psychological Manipulation |
Oh, thank you. Thank you for creating this site. For bringing to light the disturbance and disruption created by having, knowing, or having the narcissist thrust upon you.
First thought: let’s build a gated community! Yes! A place where we can run free! A preserve! Where we are protected. A place where we can meander down to the watering hole, tell some marvelously offensive jokes, laugh till our collective sinuses are clear and then do it again.
I still want to just type the words “thank you” over and over. And I haven’t read Band Back Together but for ten or fifteen minutes, but I see that this is the place. The place where people say – hey, you’re not losing your mind. You’re not.
You’ve just met your first dyed in the wool, Grade A, First Prize, Blue Ribbon Narcissist. And you can’t return it. You don’t seem to have the receipt. No one is going to reimburse your account and basically, you’re stuck with it. You can’t unload it at a tag sale, you can’t give it away on Craig’s List, you can’t scour the shelves at CVS for a salve or a wash or treatment to make it go away. You can peruse the CDC in Atlanta and it ain’t there. You can read till you’re nodding off all of the archives of Morbidity and Mortality Weekly and there are no blips on the radar.
It’s almost a quiet killer. A killer of marriages. A killer of relationships. A killer, most assuredly, of peace of mind. It’s little like menopause when you have a hot sweat; the urgent need to pull off the sweater, fan yourself with whatever you can grab and declare to anyone nearby, “Oh my God, it’s happening!”
The need to share is common (thank goodness, we all get a turn! Just like your Mama!! Ha! Made ya laugh!) I wish having a Narc in the family was half as much fun as a hot sweat. As if the body’s response to the stress of their existence doesn’t do enough damage. My bod pumps out more Cortisol in that wretched persons’ company than is imaginable. Can’t sell that on Craig’s List either. Too bad it wasn’t like plasma and we could donate to help someone!
But! I’ve just found this site. And I said, “who is this broad? She sounds like me. That sentence sounds like mine!”
And I want to reach through the screen and shake her hand! Hi! Ohhh, you were on that bus, too? That was quite a cliff, wasn’t it? Our nodding the implied “YES!” validates the bus trip off the cliff and we exclaim heartily that we are so lucky to have come out alive. But – we’ll always be the ones who got on that bus. Unknowingly. Crap luck.
And today, out of nowhere, the other side of the luck coin crops up. Well, truth is I have read about narcissistic personality disorder, NPD, a fair amount, unfortunately leaves me feeling like I should find a rope and a branch that”ll hold me. One YouTube video left me in a funk for days – went from a fairly good mood into the bowels of hell. I yelled at myself, why oh why did you listen to that? And gave in to the tears.
Screw it. It is what it is. I’ve a habit of biting off my nose to spite my face, but my life is taking such a direction due to an extended family member’s personality disorder, that I admit I cannot do it alone. This is not a time that I’ll say that I’ll just take care of it myself. No. Nope. Can’t do it. Have been drowning for almost six years in the wake of her behavior and how the person closest to me has become estranged for his fear of being put out in the corn.
It’s a nightmare. Wake me, please. Help me. Help me to mitigate the damage she is doing to a little girl. It’s done. Done deal. And I am a piece of s?!
by Band Back Together | Aug 11, 2015 | Happiness, Narcissistic Personality Disorder |
I’m a 37 year old, a newly single mother of three children between the ages of three and seven. While I do not receive child support, we are finally happy. My ex, their father, has narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).
As I am a single parent, I’ve had to rely upon my parents. My children and I decided to move from the city we love to the country where I grew up. We thought it to be the right decision. Of course, I found my dream house out in the country but, thanks to my bad credit, I couldn’t afford to buy it. My father stepped in to help. He signed for my house and he signed for a car for me.
My parents own the business I work for – I’m even allowed to bring my kids to work – it’s pretty awesome. Until it started. Every time I make a decision or do something they don’t like, my parents ride me. My house isn’t clean enough. I’m not home on time. That’s enough to trigger a texting marathon with a million questions from them. Our personal life is now their business.
If I have anyone over to see me or if one of my children says something to that effect, it triggers a million questions. If I don’t feel like playing the game, they assume I’m hiding something bad. If they hear something or even THINK something, instead of coming to me, I get treated like crap – and I have no idea why.
In the past two years, I’ve been treated terribly by them, even though in a twist of fate, I’ve tried harder than I have in my adult years. Things have gotten so bad that my father will say terrible things to me – often things that are true, but from the past – in front of my children. He’ll even go behind my back and say nasty things about me to my children.
My parents have put me through a lot. As of late, I’ve come to the understanding that my father has these preconceived notions about the girl, and the woman he thought I should be, When I fail to live up to these expectations, he becomes irate.
Now I’ve finally woken up and realized that I do have a mind of my own and yes, I can even use it. Now it seems that my kids are being targeted so my parents can “help them be the best they can be” in their eyes, of course. I feel that they have had their chance raising my brother and I.
Now? Now it’s my turn to raise my kids. So we can be happy once again.
by Band Back Together | Aug 7, 2015 | Gastroesphogeal Reflux Disease, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Self Injury |
It’s been a while since I’ve been back here, and thought I’d update.
The last year has been hell for me, but I am emerging as a different person. I spent last fall in and out of hospitals and self-harming constantly. Things came to a head when I moved to Florida briefly. I would cut multiple times a day.
I finally decided to come back to Texas. That, along with the medication changes have made a world of difference.
In April, I started having disturbing digestive symptoms. I finally found answers with a restrictive diet and prescription treatment for Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) and severe Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD.)
I am now employed for the first time in eleven months, and that’s going well. I’m a very different person now. I no longer have a desire to cut, and I am more than four months clean.
