Parental Narcissism and its effects on children’s identity
Identity is a big word. Knowing who you are and what your actions mean is desirable, however the process of getting there is riddled with lies we tell ourselves about who we are. We compile this list of traits we have, when asked about them we say: I am...
That's our identity.
But what if we tell ourselves "I am..." and it's not true?
A lie is a lie is a lie…or is it?
When I was a child, like probably most children do, I tested out lying. What if I said something that wasn’t true? Would anyone notice? Would it matter? To my parent (intended gender neutrality from here on out) it mattered. They made clear in no uncertain terms that lying was THE WORST. So I adopted that attitude. Lying is bad, in that they are not wrong. But it’s also supremely difficult in some situations to tell the truth. Not every lie is the same. No general statement can change that. As a society we have agreed that there are lies we are allowed to tell. In the Chapter "The Psychology of Lying" from the book False Allegations Aurelio Coronado-Mares (MS) and Brent E. Turvey (PhD) split all the lies we tell into four categories:
1. Complete deception
2. Half-Truths
3. Exaggerations
4. Pertinent Omissions
In general though there are two basic types of lies: prosocial ones, told to be beneficial to others and antisocial ones, told to only be beneficial to oneself.
These important distinctions, this spectrum of truth, I wasn't privy to. I lived binarily simple. “I am honest.” That is my identity. Until I realised decades later that in fact I am a big fat liar. I know all those categories intimately. I never really questioned my behaviour. The things I said, that I now consider to be lies, I believed to be true just as much as I wanted the person I told them to to believe they were true. In the famous sentiment of DJ Khaled, I too had to tell myself: “Congratulations, you played yourself.”
Am I who made me?
Coming to terms with the fact that I grew up with a narcissistic parent made me realise that I needed to delve into this world of lies I had created and start to reexamine my “I am…”’s. I had to look at them for what they most likely had been in the past and what they would be now, truly. So I started listing mentally and I’ll do that for you in writing now:
I am honest.
I am happy all the time.
I am loose with boundaries.
I am a good listener.
I am dependant on others.
Those are some of the things I have been telling myself forever. Until recently I did not understand, that those were actually things I was told and adapted to and started telling myself. No matter the contrast to reality.
For comparison, here is a list of some statements that generally pertain to a large number of children of narcissistic parents, according to Karyl McBride (PhD), author of the book The Legacy of Distorted Love and the article I am referencing here “The Real Effect of Narcissistic Parenting on Children”.
“The child will be fearful of being real, and will instead be taught that image is more important than authenticity.”
“The child will not learn to identify or trust their own feelings and will grow up with crippling self-doubt.”
“The child will not learn appropriate boundaries for relationships.”
“The child will be taught to keep secrets to protect the parent and the family.”
“The child will be taught to seek external validation versus internal validation.”
Sucks, right? Figuring out that the person you thought you were is a by-product of your parent’s mental and emotional disorder, is traumatic in itself to say the least. For almost every “I am…” I pondered, there was a relation to parental misbehaviour. Suddenly the curtain falls. What you considered right and true is not anymore. The heroes of your childhood turn out to be peculiar victim-villains. It is difficult to fault broken people for doing broken people things, but it is even harder to step over all the shattered pieces and accept that this person wreaks havoc not out of malice, necessarily, but because that is who they are. Their true identity is destructive and hurtful. Also to themselves.
Still sucks, right? Having to rationalise behaviour when you know it’s what made you who you are. The cause of my disdain, my struggle, my emotional trauma is the behaviour of disordered narcissists. There is no excuse for it, that would make my pain be any less valid or any less real. I had to face the reality of being awoken to silence. When all you hear is the voices of criticism, self-doubt, anxiety, depression, of suicide, you become deaf to life. Another side effect is that by muting it all you also rob yourself of your own voice.
Fighting through discomfort
Therapy helped me understand that I do have a voice and that voice is not tainted by what I have been indoctrinated to believe about myself. Removing invisible chains from my chest to finally just breathe and be, not being afraid of saying what I feel or at least not letting me being afraid keep me from talking about my feelings. I feel like working through the discomfort of not being who I thought I was and grasping that I am a lot more than that, is an important journey I am on. I have revisited my “I am…”’s. They are different now than they were before.
I am guarded about my feelings. (However I am working on being more open.)
I am not happy all the time. (And I don’t have to be.)
I am able to set boundaries. (Sometimes they are impenetrable.)
I am not always a good listener. (Who is? Honestly?)
I am NOT dependant on others. (But I don’t have to be alone to prove that.)
I have also found out other aspects that define me. I can only recommend taking your time to think about what you consider to be your identity and reality check that with who you really are. In all honesty. Also, I cannot stress this enough, therapy helps. Connecting with others helps.
On the group weblog “Band Back Together” you will find a greatly informative article about “Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents”. There it says:
“It’s not until the adult children of a narcissist go into therapy or experience a life-changing experience that pulls them away from the disturbed parent that these adult children can truly begin to heal – and then create stronger, more normal relationships that offer the give-and-take reciprocation most of us value in our relationships.”
Or as Jim Carrey put it: "The isolated family member is the one who is truly awake."
As a last note: I am not on speaking terms with any of my narcissistic family members. I have over the years broken off contact with more and more of them and I will begin 2020 as the first year I will allow myself to live without my toxic family relationships. I am scared of change, but more so excited.
I want to encourage everyone who may have experienced something similar: You do not have to be ashamed of not knowing who you are when you have suffered a lifetime of being told who to be. Remember that no one can stifle your essence. Nobody has the power to silence your voice, because you yourself are your resonance body. You are the sound. Sometimes we need an enhancer on the outside to hear ourselves and that’s okay. But in the end, you'll be heard. Even by yourself.
