Without my OCD stress relief, I knew I’d explode. Dad’s rages drove my stress level off the charts. Then he forbade dermatillomania, my only stress relief. It was torturous! And I wasn’t the only one in agony.

Once upon a time, there was a happy little family. A narcissistic Daddy who ran the show. A sweet, codependent Mommy (“Little Warden”) who did everything he said. And their sweet, obedient Little Project, the apple of their eye, who provided tons and tons of narcissistic supply. Me.

Things limped along pretty well for the first fifteen years, if you overlook Dad’s routine…

When did it happen? When did life flip upside-down? When did normalcy flee? When was my last day as a normal human being? Ah, common sense, alas, I never knew thee.

Luckily, “normal” is my husband’s middle name. By marrying him, I finally got to live like everyone else. What a shock! A pleasant shock. A wonderful shock! What I’d always wanted.

An example, you say? Oh, okay. Here’s a classic example of what I’m talkin’ about.

To this day I revel in the joy of being able to drive somewhere without calling home to deliver the news that I’ve…

Cringe-worthy. Kinda weird. Definitely uncomfortable. But also, flattering. My emotions ran this gamut every Tuesday and Sunday evening, the times Dad demanded I schedule to be spent, alone, with him. Playing music together. Gossiping about his wife/my mother to me. Pawing, I mean, patting me.

On the one hand, I was flattered (and guilty!) that he seemed to like me better than my mother, his wife of thirty years. We bonded over the pain and frustration her paranoia, her menopausal idiosyncrasies and her über-control caused us. Triangulation at its finest! (Look it up!)

On the other hand, I never felt…

Beware the religious narcissist. They speak with the omniscient voice of God. Wield the sword of His judgment. Brandish the rod of His power. They wear the mantle of His righteousness. They goin’ straight to Heaven, baby. And you, you back-slidden heathen? Well, you ain’t!

Exploitation of Holy Scripture is at its finest when you give a narcissist a Bible. In fact, all cult leaders have narcissistic tendencies. You can take it to the bank!

My narcissists “got religion” in 1980. Or so they claimed.

Click here to read why I still believe in God, despite narcissists giving Him a bad name!

Originally published at blogs.psychcentral.com.

Narcissists have mean, nasty tongues. Duh! Unfortunately, the social convention of “niceness” puts a cramp in their style. Plan B: Couch the meanness in humor. It’s called teasing. Now they can be as mean as they want, with plausible deniability. They ain’t dun nuthin’. You’re just too sensitive.

As far back as I can remember, Dad teased me. Constantly. Mom put it down to his whole family being “smart lips.”

But this wasn’t ordinary, ridiculous teasing. This wasn’t calling me “Thou pribbling pottle-deep skainsmate!” or “Thou qualling ill-breeded popinjay!” Ah, Shakespeare knew how to do insults the right way!

No, these teases always contained a kernel of truth. As the custodian of my character, Dad believed it was his God-given right to point out my many flaws. And as…

I’ve got the leakiest tear ducts on the planets. Seems like I’m always sniffling about this or weeping about that. If it’s not adorable videos of babies making my eyes well up, it’s videos of ecstatic dogs welcoming their master home from serving overseas. Any sentimental YouTube video can get me hullabalooing into my hankie in no time. It came as quite a shock to my husband when we married in 2012. Now he thinks I’m both hysterical funny and extremely soft-hearted.

There’s only one scenario where my tear ducts dry up. My own pain. I simply cannot cry for…

If I had a dollar for every time I heard, “Lenora, you’re SO emotional,” I’d be a rich woman today. Were you subjected to this denigration too? Does it ring any bells? If Grandsire Triples are going off in your bell tower, my sympathies. Let’s explore this phenomenon together, shall we?

First, the hard truth. At times all humans are overly emotional. We are human and therefore at times we are indeed too emotional. What can I say? Sh*t happens.

But that’s not what this article is about. It’s about situations where we felt valid emotions, strong emotions, appropriate emotions…

I’m never alone. Denial is my constant companion. She wakes me in the morning, stays close by my side all the day and sings me to sleep at night. I’m never free of her. Never alone. Never totally at peace.

Did you ever watch Frank Capra’s masterpiece It Happened One Night starring Clark Gable and the equally gorgeous Claudette Colbert. Remember that iconic “piggybacking” scene? Well, Claudette called it piggybacking, although I suppose technically speaking it wasn’t really piggybacking.

Denial is like that. I drag her through life, slung over my shoulder, while she playfully flogs me with Clark Gable’s…