The Narcissist and the Psychopath; aka My Parents

I read Paula’s post today, and my jaw dropped. I have another piece of the puzzle, a bit of the answer to my “Why?” and “How?” did my parents end up that way? Why did my Mom marry my Dad, and How did she stay married to him? Why was she able to turn her back on us and deny all of the abuse? Because a narcissist married a psychopath.

Here is the link to Paula’s reblog:

Reflection of bridge

Reflections are real to a narcissist (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The bit that stood out to me, describes my mother so well. “It’s not the reflection which drives
your intent and fires your motivation but rather, You are staring (into the pool) because you see nothing but your own blackness”

My mom feels like nothing without attention. She can’t see herself unless we reflect it back to her. I think she was already like that when she met my Dad. So when a young psychopath, with strong charm, full of flattery, courts a young narcissist, it is an instant and powerful match. He truly did complete her. He supplied the beautiful reflection she had been looking for. Until they got married, and he learned his power over her. She would do ANYTHING to get that lovely reflection from him. And so he withheld it until he got his way. And then only gave her quick glances in his evil mirror, never the long, satisfying gaze she yearned for.

And then, he made sure that all her children would not return that reflection either. And stole the soul of his daughter. So that his daughter would not be a narcissist, would not even know she had a reflection to seek out.

My mother’s goal is and was a perfect image. The extents of this are too far to name here, but gaining more importance to me as I heal. I never questioned why they did not want to be seen with me in my back brace and leg brace after spinal surgery. I was kept inside and alone, like the Hunchback in the bell tower, and only allowed out at night to practice walking. When we only got drive through, not allowed to eat in a restaurant, it was explained as “We wouldn’t want the other diners to stare dear. We wouldn’t want to make them uncomfortable” I accepted that I was hideous and pitiful and that other diners should not have to see me that way. (I was 12)

My father’s goal was power and self-satisfaction. I truly don’t think he has human emotions – a true pyschopath – his inner world is full of calculations and plans. My mother’s inner world tends to be blank and self-pitying and fear of exposing the blankness. My Father has never felt fear, compassion, heartache, tenderness. He has expressed rage, though not sure he actually felt it, as even then he seemed cold and non-spontaneous. Like when my eldest brother called him an a$$hole to his face. My father’s reaction was not instant. He allowed my brother to storm off to his room. My father slowly got up from the chair at the dining room table, carefully slid it back into place, slowly walked after him. I heard the door open and close. And then I heard a dull thud, followed by a huge bang, a few words. I saw my Father calmly return to his place at the table and resume reading like nothing happened. I went back to my brother’s room and saw him sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, shaking, but not actually crying. On the wall above him, was a huge hole in the wall. He looked at me a moment but said nothing, nothing was in his eyes, like he wasn’t really in his body right then. Then got up and went out the front door. My Father watched him leave with almost a smile. I found out later, many years later, from my brother, that my father had put one hand around my brother’s neck, nearly choking him, then pushed him against the wall while saying “If you ever disrespect me again, this fist will go into your head and not the wall” and then punched clean through the wall right next to his head. (My memory I am about 6, so my brother must have been about 16)

My mother and my other brother had the hole repaired before bed time. Nothing happened. Everything is fine. The next day it was painted, and other than a slight bumpiness there in the wall, it was like it never happened. No one spoke of these events, as it would ruin the reflection of a perfect family. The children in our house were always respectful, and the parents were always nurturing. Threats were acceptable forms of discipline and if we found them to be harsh, it was only because we deserved it and we left them no choice. This reflection served both parents, and so continued for way too many years.

How it all began:

5 thoughts on “The Narcissist and the Psychopath; aka My Parents

  1. Pingback: Scandal in Malaysia……. Part Seven « Sex, Spirit, Soul Mates and Chocolate….Ivonne's Journey

  2. So sorry that you have had to endure such mental torture and the result was that you did have your soul ‘torn away’. I pray that you will continue to keep sharing and healing and moving forward in the path to reclaim your mind, body and your soul. xo

  3. Pingback: R is for Reflections…… « Sex, Spirit, Soul Mates and Chocolate….Ivonne's Journey

  4. I was raised by a psychopath and a narcissist, so I do understand. What you described about your father’s behavior–putting his fist through the wall and threatening your brother in such a way–is very familiar to me. I am so very sorry that you and your brother were raised in such a home; I know all too well how painful it was for you both. This is my first visit to your site, and I must say that it looks just beautiful, and I’m going to take time today to read some of what you’ve written. I’m just so excited to find someone else I can relate to! Thank you for being willing to share!

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