Silence Is Golden

The holiday season is upon us once again, and I find myself plagued with the annual dilemma of how to handle sending my sister a Christmas present. Last year it was easy; I just ordered something off of Amazon, and had it shipped to her with a gift receipt. I figured that was easy enough - how hard could it be to please a seven year-old? The year before that, I had just moved out and money was tight, and sending a heartfelt card seemed sufficient enough to let her know that I love and think about her (without breaking the bank). But this year... this year would be significantly tougher. I know that if I send my sister a present, or even reach out to her in any way, I'd have to deal with a whole new monster -- my mother, who at this point is at the bottom of the list of people I'd like to be in contact with.

Growing up, I always hated Christmas. The thought of being stuck in a house with my narcissistic mother made being outside during the frigid New York City weather seem like a cakewalk. When I was still in high school, it seemed like the "jolly" Christmas season was anything but, defined mostly by passive-aggressive comments about my school, weight, and attitude, which eventually led up to full-on screaming matches that left everyone except my mother wishing they were some place far away. Everything was always my fault.

It was in the way I walked, talked, and dressed. It was because I dared challenge her closed-minded worldview. It was because of something stupid, like the way I wanted to wear my hair during the Christmas party. It was all of the petty, childish abuses that came with living with a narcissistic parent, the ones no one believed because she had manipulated everyone around her to think that she was a saint, and I was just the evil teenage daughter.

Narcissists believe that the people around them exist in order to validate them. They are incapable of feeling true empathy, and even the kindest of deeds always come with an undercurrent of obligation on your part. They are incapable of seeing themselves as being in the wrong, no matter how abusive or egregious their behaviors may be. They are manipulative, self-centered, and have a need to always be the victim or center of attention, no matter how inappropriate. Everything must always be about them, and when their needs for attention are not met, they lash out in ways that are verbally, emotionally, and often physically abusive.

I put up with it for nineteen years before I picked up and left. Years of never being good enough, of being objectified, insulted, and dehumanized, of being lied about and mistreated behind a facade of perfection, had left a taste in my mouth so bitter that I jumped ship with barely enough to keep me afloat. I left behind my life, my friends, and my family for some hope of reprieve. I put up with my mother's begging, her threats of suicide and abuse, her sickly-sweet attempts of buying my love with lavish gifts and money -- all of which I ignored or turned away. And now, two years and four months after I took the leap, it's Christmas time... and she wants in.

In all fairness, I wouldn't have considered myself as being "no contact" with her until about two months ago, when I finally told her enough was enough.

She'd just visited me two weeks prior, during which she teased me to the point of tears, completely disassembled the self-confidence I'd built since I was gone, called my sanity and every single one of my life choices into question, and — as if it wasn't enough — threatened to cut me off from my sister if I didn't start "behaving." She'd torn into me about how ungrateful I was — after all, she'd paid for trips to Europe, had funded my piano lessons, and everyone around her thought she was a great mother, so how could I possibly have any complaints? When I told her she was responsible for my eating disorder, she laughed and told me to stop bitching — I was skinny, I looked great. When I asked her why she lied to me about my father, she told me she didn't think it was "necessary" for us to have a relationship. And on, and on. And when I finally asked her if my depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder came out of nowhere? She cried, and asked me where she went wrong, and why I'd turned out as such a "fucked-up failure."

Then, she sends me an email once she returns home. I don't understand. I'm your mother. Why would you treat me this way? I love you. I didn't bother replying. I was just so unbelievably hurt by what she did and said, and I was baffled by the fact that she could not, and would not, apologize for the way she treated me.

And the killer? I still want to forgive her.

Narcissists sound like horrible people... when you don't know them. From an outside perspective, I would never even think of letting someone like this near myself or someone I loved. But she's my mother, and I love her. Doesn't that mean something? She's family, she birthed me, she raised me... doesn't she deserve a second chance?

The answer to that is no.

For those of you who are struggling with a narcissistic friend or relative — that one person everyone seems to love, even though you know all too well how they really are — the simple fact is that no matter how many chances you give them, no matter how much they mean to you and others, they are never going to change. You will always be an object to them, something that they can use to further their own agenda (whatever that may be). Loving a narcissist is one of the hardest things to do, because no matter how much you love them, they will never be able to love you back in the same way.

Remember -- even if you're tempted to reach out to that toxic person in your life in spirit of the holidays, don't. You will only be providing them with an avenue to manipulate and abuse you again. Going no-contact with my mother was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, and I struggle with it almost daily. But when I look at where I was 3 years ago versus where I am today, I realize that breaking free of her cycles of guilt, manipulation, and abuse was probably one of the best things I ever could have done for myself. So, this holiday season, do yourself a favor — savor the peace and quiet, and spend time with those who actually care about you.