I thought I would tell you a story about the craziness of a narcissist. This particular story involves the father.
Once upon a time…wait a minute, I can’t start it that way, that’s for fairy tales and this is no fairy tale!
Several years ago, before I was married, I had an apartment of my own. One night the father came over. I think I invited him but can’t remember for sure. You’re probably already thinking, “Uh oh.” You would be right.
I made him tea and we sat in my living room. I don’t know how, but our conversation went from nice calm chit-chat to the father going into a sudden rage in a nano second.
He was telling me something (Probably some sort of should be, should do thing, because he liked to lecture for hours) he had told me before, so I responded with, “I know.” It wasn’t even a cold or mean response just a statement. Well this set the father off. The next thing I know he’s yelling at me. He’s asking me if I think I know more than him. I responded, “No, you just told me this before.” I wish now I would have said, “Why yes, yes I do.” lol
He continued in a ranting rage. For some reason that night, I had what I needed to stand up to him. I don’t know how, as there’s no telling what he could have done to me, in the state he was in. Usually I turn into a terrified little girl around him, but not this night.
I told him that the conversation stops here. If he wants to move on to other things fine, but I’m not continuing with this subject. He kept up his ranting rage, so I repeated myself. This time he went silent, got up off the couch, went to the door, put his boots on and said he was leaving.
I said “bye.” I didn’t even get up to see him out, I just let him go.
That was not a fun night but it gets better, here’s where the “wonky” or “wonkier” comes in…
The next day I get an email from the father saying that he had a lovely time last night and that we should do this again soon.
What????
I couldn’t believe it, was he kidding? No, he’s not the kidding type. He either chose complete denial, or his mind was not right and his perception of our evening was really messed up in his brain.
I remember that, as being the day I wrote on the calendar his strange behaviour in case he was found to have dementia down the road, and the doc asked when we started seeing signs of it.
It was just so outrageous. Now the father has never been quite right, but that night really stands out in my mind. As I blog this, weirdly I’m finding I have compassion for him. I don’t think it’s because he’s the father but more so because he was so abused himself, and I’m just seeing how much it messed him up.
Boy do I wish the cycle of abuse would stop in this world once and for all, yet I sadly know that’s not likely. What I do know, is it stops here with me in our lives. I can make a difference. I have not become an abuser, and I will not allow abuse to define me.
There is hope!
