There were indicators though. The contrast in compassion and humility between my father and grandfather. The rage explosions. Comparisons between friends' parents and my own. And my own internal barometer - knowing the negativity wasn't right.
But it wasn't obvious. Like a fish in water it was all I knew.
I didn't have options. It was something I needed to learn to live with and tolerate - not question. Maybe if there had been the name earlier there would have been options.
And it was insidious. Much of it was concealed and the facade was always kept up.
Yet it effected me profoundly in many ways. I think it's impact probably more damaging and troublesome for my sister and mother. But the nature of it did not bring us together to combat it - it divided and separated. Alienated.
A name changed everything. It has a name! And with that name came so much; validation it was real and a brotherhood of others who have endured it. And possibility. It was now possible to deal with it and not get sucked back into enduring it.
In fairness this was not perpetrated against me with bad intent. Yet that knowledge doesn't alleviate the pervasive problems and pain it has caused. Like a person walking over a nest of ants, the turmoil and suffering caused goes unnoticed.There were many many episodes that were hints. 100s of them I am sure. Many repressed I am sure.
My mother recently pleaded that future regret should inspire reconciliation. But I truly don't believe the problem can be fixed. And the only regret I have now was not having figured this out earlier so the problem could be removed from my life and the possibility of healing could begin.
So where did the name come from?
For years my parents complained of my sisters accusations having no basis. Very specific life events she claimed and they claimed never happened. I researched it and researched it and he only thing I could find had to do with narcissism. Yet my sister was clearly not a happy person. She had once told me if it weren't for her kids she wouldn't want to live. And there were undoubtedly pharmaceuticals involved. Antidepressants. My parents' therapist thought my evaluation was wrong. That it was boarderline personality disorder. But my further research indicated BPD was very similar in many respects to NPD. So I chalked it up to "close enough".
A dispute with my father lead to a meeting to try and reconcile. And there it happened again. My 78 year old father getting worked up and excited and beginning the yelling and scolding and despicable accusations. But this time, maybe through years of meditating or years of martial arts training or maybe just through maturity, I experienced the onslaught differently. There were two "me"s. the first wanted to stop the onslaught at any cost. If he is this mad and this sure and he is my father I must be wrong. I must capitulate. I must immediately reconcile. But the other me saw a older man screaming and ranting but in no way a threat and all his accusations in the end were simply not true. Lies.
That night I resumed my research. The same behavior they complained my sister exhibited I had just experienced with my father. I started where I left off. A book by Eleanor Payson on amazon with 100s of 5 star ratings on narcissism soon changed my life. I am forever grateful to Eleanor for her work. I read until 3 am and finished the book the next day. There wasn't a page I didn't relate to. 100s of episodes got revisited in my mind with a new and fresh understanding.
I was angry. Sad. Resentful of what was lost and taken from me. Elated I had finally identified it. Confused. And finally excited - possibility. I had a name for the first time for what was the most challenging obstacle I had faced in my life. Narcissism.
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