Daughters Of Bad Fathers

Daughters of bad fathers have our own tribe, don’t we?

We had bad fathers who were distant, cruel, or abusive. And at their worst, monsters. The circumstances can be so different, but we share some common issues.

My narcissist father said he loved me. I think he might have even said the words often, but his actions made it clearΒ  he was a liar.

If our bad fathers didn’t love us, how were we supposed to learn how to have a relationship with men?

If we’re lucky, we figure it out on our own, but usually there are some spectacular failures first.

I know it’s not just women with shitty dads who fail at male/female relationships, but we are really good at bad relationships.

If we were unworthy of love, then we learn at a young age that we don’t measure up. We’re not good enough. We are wrong and shameful and less. We are less than other people and we are sure other people can see that, just like lint under a black light.

We listen to other women talk with adoration and respect about their fathers and we feel curious or envious.

I’ve often wondered how different of a woman I would be now if I had a good relationship with my dad. I wonder how much less fear I would have felt throughout my life if I felt the security and acceptance of a loving father when I was growing up.

I understand that he did what he could. I’m not even as angry and resentful as I used to be. That doesn’t mean I’m rushing to visit him more often. I don’t know that will ever happen. I also don’t feel mind numbing rage every timeshell I’m around him, either. Bursts of extreme annoyance, sure, but it’s not as bad. I don’t know if this happened because of the time I’ve spent learning about parental narcissism or if I got tired of being angry.

He’s frail now. He moves slow and his eyes have that ‘runny old man’ look to them. His voice grows shaky and his hair is almost gone. I look at him and see how he’s breaking down. I have difficulty processing the feelings. Not compassion, I’m not in a place to feel compassion for him yet. Perhaps sadness for having a childhood filled with anxiety when it was so unnecessary. I wasΒ right there.Β I could have brought him happiness, love, and comfort.

He was lucky to have me and he wasted our time.

This is the first time I’ve ever framed that thought in such a way. That he was lucky to have me. He was. I was a funny kid. I was funny, quirky, and loyal. I would have been a great daughter, but his mental illness made that impossible. His mental illness kept us from having a relationship. The bad relationship was never my fault.

My hope for other women in this tribe is that they grow to learn their father’s behavior wasn’t their fault.

I wish that no human has to live with a bad parent, but wishing changes nothing. Since I can’t wish it away, I will just be grateful that I’m not alone.

Neither are you.

109 Thoughts.

  1. That is the main lesson, isn’t it? Not our fault. We could wallow in the “what if” and remain stuck where we have always been. But it is much, much better to move on and make something of what we have left. My biggest regret now? That I didn’t figure this shit out earlier.
    Also – I agree with the sentiment – now I just have “bursts of extreme annoyance” too. I don’t feel sympathy for him. But I do think that it’s sad that he’ll never know the real me and how kickass I really am! All because I didn’t/won’t/don’t fit into the box that he had picked out for me at birth.

    P.S. I dreamt that I met you! We were sitting at the bar tasting whisky after a distillery tour, and started chatting. Then after we left my husband was asking me, “What’s a fucking blog? Is that a word?” I’m not a stalker – you can’t blame my sub-conscious for admiring you!

    • HAHAHH! That is AWESOME and I would TOTALLY drink whiskey with you..even though it gives me a terrible hangover.

      I wish I would have figured this out sooner as well..but it is what it is..my life is what I make it..

  2. I have a good father, not perfect, but I have always known he loves me. My children, on the other hand, have a terrible father, and I chose him, and for that I feel much guilt and sadness and trauma. It is why I started writing a blog. As I watch my children enter into romantic relationships now, I remind them not to accept crumbs tossed at them from potential partners, because that is what they were used to from their father and they gobbled them up. You are not alone and you deserved to have a great dad.

  3. I’m so glad you’ve got to this point. I came to terms with my dysfunctional family in my early 20s. What I didn’t know despite all the reading I’d done was that I was dealing with an NPD/Co-dependent issue, my dad wasn’t the worst kind, though the psychological warfare left me very damaged. He has mellowed now he is older and he doesn’t gaslight any more. My relationship with him left me ill prepared for dealing with relationships and I now understand why I fell prey to certain types of men, the worst of which was my ex-husband who is a total narcissist.
    Hopefully understanding it will help me avoid repeating it. Although, come March it will be 4 years since I split with my ex. As I haven’t been on so much as a date since, I doubt I need to worry about that any time soon.
    πŸ™‚

  4. I’m much at the same point with my father…but the “compassion” I’m feeling comes more from my study of Buddhism. I feel compassion for the human being who’s aging and becoming more rail and dependent, not the asshole who beat me as a kid, controlled my life, tried to keep me dependent on him even after I married (a guy who is wrong for me because he was not hand picked by daddy dearest…3 kids and a happy 36 yrs together, I think I picked the right guy!). Not the man who is playing the “I can’t look after myself since your mom’s stroke and I need your help so you cantake her place” and the “I don’t remember” game , while being on the executive for the electricians union retirement board, playing golf, doing his own taxes etc. He has no dementia or memory issues, he’s just playing control games.
    It’s tough though when the manipulations start, the guilt-tripping etc.
    We just had his 80th surprise birthday party, catered dinner at a restaurant. Two weeks previous when he thought he was getting no party, that nobody was going to acknowledge his BIG birthday… he started planning a big family dinner with Indian food brought in to their home where we’d all chip in and pay for it for him…we let him make plans as Golden Child, me and my eldest were planning the surprise party on behalf of my mom at her instruction (she’s a stroke victim and lives in a nursing home).
    At his party he got all teary over the speech given by the family friend who had been his best man when he married my mother (who was my mother’s former beau, how weird is that).
    This man never shed a tear at my MS diagnosis, or the birth of my eldest, his first grandchild…so typical of a narcissist.
    I know longer blow up at these things, I’m able to stay calm now and look at it from a more clinical, distant, viewpoint.
    As you said…it’s probably because of all the work done reading up on narcissists (including clinical therapy books). I’ve learn how to deal with him and protect myself and my kids.
    It’s self preservation.
    Golden Child sister and Only Son Only Brother got the lion’s share of positive attention, financial support through both of their divorces…me I get punished for having a healthy relationship and never letting him “White Knight” on our behalf over 34 yrs of marriage…never taking a penny financially (he wanted to take over our mortgage from our credit union at one point for leverage…after we’d been in our house 15 yrs)
    Golden Child and Only Son can move him in with one of them if the time ever comes for that.

    • Oh I can SO relate to your examples! And when I got to the mortgage part – been there – turned down THAT opportunity. He was extremely disappointed when we bought the farmhouse where my husband grew up via land contract at 0% and didn’t require his “help”! Oh I could go on and on about how similar the situation is…
      I am not sure if my father has dementia or not, because how can one tell if the suddenly not remembering is really not remembering or gaslighting??? And he never actually listened or cared what someone was saying anyway, so he didn’t remember it because he never noticed it in the first place!

  5. One thing I have come to realize is that there is no way I could have brought my mother happiness, love, and comfort…only SHE could do that but she put the responsibility on me (and for a long while I sure did try to bring her happiness, love, and comfort but it was a failing proposition…but it wasn’t my fault).

    Here’s to those of us who had/have a shitty parent and who have chosen to rise above.

  6. What an eye opening post. We share a lot of the same anxiety and fears with each other, but I didn’t have that experience with my father. He was a good guy he just left me way too soon when I was only 15. I can’t imagine the pain you have endured through the years. What you said was exactly right. He was so lucky and he fucked up. That’s on him not you! We all have some kind of family craziness and I’ve had my share and what I’ve learned is that you can pick your friends but not your family and sometimes that just sucks!

  7. Every.Single.Word. Thank you for writing this and confirming that I am allowed to feel what I feel. I am currently struggling with setting boundaries with my aging narcissist father, and I remind myself that I am not a bad person because I choose not to be available to care for him.

    I thank the stars above that I married a man the complete opposite of my father, and that my brother works daily not to be that father to his son.

  8. I had a horrible/non existent relationship with my Dad growing up. For some reason in my 40’s I was compelled to confront him. We agreed to discuss/debate and I suddenly (actually a year) found myself with the father of my dreams. He died last year:(

  9. Fathers… my cousin and i hope every day that we get “the call” and we can go to his funeral just to make sure the sonofabitch is really dead. And then we will take our pink pliers and dare anyone to stop us from prying the gold out of that losers mouth.

    On a lighter note we have stopped that cycle in our own lives. We both have wonderful men who are even more wonderful fathers. My daughter will have a hard time finding a man that measures up to her daddy. And for that I am grateful!

  10. I don’t remember my dad ever saying “I love you” until I was an adult. In many ways he was a great dad, but in some ways not. He taught me (through experience) to censor myself – my words, my thoughts, the things I liked – to meet someone else’s expectations. It’s a lesson I’m very slowly unlearning with the help of an incredibly patient man, and a lesson that I’ve bent over backward to avoid teaching my daughter. I love my dad, but I don’t want to continue that part of his legacy.

  11. Thank you, Michelle. This post has brought tears to my eyes. Not only have I suffered but I see my daughter going through similar with her own father. Makes sense though, we marry what we grow up with. Luckily I’m with a man who cherishes me. This was not the case in my marriage. This was not the case in my home growing up. I am unworthy and devalued by my father to this very day but I know what love is. I’m not sure he does and for that I am sad.

  12. I hear you. I always tend to break down and think about my dad (slightly) more at the holidays. But every year it gets a little more distant, and he is winding down, too, only he seems more like a ‘weepy old drunk’ now–not anyone’s favorite personality…

    This year we didn’t get so much as a card (from the current girlfriend, not from him), until after Jan 1. Then she sent a photo of the two of them and her own note saying : “by the way, your dad is working as a crossing guard for the local school.” Not Merry Christmas. Not ‘how are your kids?’, not anything from him. (Also a CROSSING guard? For other people’s kids?? How precious).

    pbbbbtth. He would have been lucky to know me AND my amazing, beautiful, smart kids, but he doesn’t care, so I quit bothering a long time ago.

    Just don’t ask me to show up for the funeral, dude…

    • Wow. This sounds EXACTLY like my dad. It is his wife that is in charge of communication with us (be it good or bad- and she swings wildly, and irrationally between those. In the past he has justified some horrific behavior from her directed at us). He was a ‘great’ dad when I was little but had less and less to do with my sister and I the older we became, as we began to have our own thoughts and feelings. Now I am 33 and every odd year I might get a phone call (mostly on his birthday to remind me that it is HIS birthday). Last year on my birthday he must have had a nostalgic moment and rang me, attempting to act like a caring father, asking me all kinds of strange questions like “Are you married?” and “Do you have any kids?”. If I had said anything slightly confrontational he would have hung the phone up on me. He just keeps getting sadder and drunker. This is what I hear from my half sister (she is in high school and is currently repeating the same xylene we went through – but worse), via my younger sister. my relationship with my half sister is very controlled by my dad and step Mum, and I have not been allowed to see her for about 7 years now. He has a relationship with all of his step kids and is involved in their lives. When I read your post I thought that being a lollypop man would be exactly the kind of ridiculous job he would get!

      • I am so sorry…I kind of get what you’re saying. My dad doesn’t drink, but he’s brain damaged and has limited short term memory. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s to interject something nonsensical into a conversation about himself. I feel bad for him when he does that. On the one hand..on the other, it annoys the shit out of me.

    • I forgot to say, Stef, that he will never truly know you, or your kids. Such is the nature of the disorder. They just make up their own mind about who people are and what they think about things. That is true loneliness, I think. Your kids are so lucky to have a a mum who appreciates and loves them as much as you do!
      Michelle, it’s so weird isn’t it? My emotions swing from rage, to pity, to greif (for the father I had as a small child, and the amazing doting father, that other girls have, that I will never have), to amusement (the outrageous antics can be hilarious some times!), loneliness, anxiety, insecurity, the list goes on. Exactly as you have described here about the feeling that there is something fundamentally wrong with you that everybody else can see it, or will eventually find out. That feeling of being unworthy of love is strong and hard to fight. It is so helpful to read posts such as yours, with people, like yourself, who are willing to share these personal experiences with the rest of us. “He was lucky to have me and he wasted that time”. I never thought about it that way before. Thank you so much!

      • You are so welcome! And yes…I recall when I was adored by my father…it’s like a switch was flipped when I was around 8 years old and then he started loathing me. I never understood why until I learned about parental narcissism and found out that happens when we turn around 7 or 8 years old and start finding our own identity..that’s when we no longer reflect them and they see that as a betrayal and they punish us for it forever.

  13. I think the rage dies down as we mature and separate from them. We no longer need them as much, we’re no longer dependent on them, so the burning rage loses its importance.

    But something odd happened when my parents died–within 14 months of one another. Suddenly I felt horrible, overpowering grief that morphed into a year-long depression. Not for them, because honestly, they were terrible parents. But grief for the parents they could have been, for what might have happened if they hadn’t been alcoholics. Once they were dead, that option was foreclosed forever more, and it was hard to accept it.

  14. I love your honesty in this – and I am glad you finally realized how lucky he is to have you. Your topic has evoked a lot of emotion; I think we are used to discussing our mothers, but not so much our fathers. Mine was an amazing person, but as a minister he rarely had much time for us. It was his one regret as he died from cancer at 63. He came from an alcoholic father who left his family six months out of the year – not sure where he went; they’re pretty sure it was Florida. He always wanted to be more for us, and I think as parents that’s what we want to be able to do . . . put together our broken pieces and be whole for our children. At least most of us want to do that – narcissists are a different ballgame. It’s always about them. Thanks for sharing.

  15. “We are less than other people and we are sure other people can see that, just like lint under a black light.”

    I love this because it says so much about how far you’ve come. At the time you must have felt you glowed with unworthiness, but now you know that you only thought people saw you that way. And even if they did it doesn’t matter. What they saw was merely on the surface, like lint, that may discolor what lies underneath but that can be removed with just a little effort. And what they were seeing was seen through their own filter.

  16. This makes me so grateful for my parents. My dad was not an affectionate guy but he showed his caring in his own way.
    I’m so glad that YOU have reached this point. You are spot on – HIS loss.
    Hugs!

  17. No you are not alone.
    We are not alone.
    For me it was my mother – As an adult I berated myself because I didn’t love her.
    Reading your blogs, and the comments of your readers helps me immensely.
    My father died when I was 17. He and I had a very close relationship.
    My mother told me once he never loved me. Nice, mom.
    She was wrong. He did.
    I couldn’t do enough to get her love. She played her children against each other until her death – and unfortunately it is still being played out with some of my siblings.
    I know she was a product of her own time and upbringing – and I can now remember the good moments in our relationship but it has taken a long time. She died 10 years ago and I am still working it out. We all are.

    • I am so sorry..I’m glad that it helps that you’ve found a tribe to connect with, though. It’s not always been easy to write about this shit, but I’m not sorry.

  18. Your father was (is) lucky to have you, and so are we, your readers, lucky. Sometimes it’s good to point out the obvious…

  19. I have something in my eye…I’m working on the “wasn’t my fault” part. He’s still alive and kickin’ and now he makes me feel like I’m a failure as a mom in addition to a failure as a daughter and human. We can’t all be abusive asshole super cops I guess.

    Good for you for fully realizing what a great kid you were/still are. My wish is that all of us daughters of shitty fathers come to that realization.

  20. So often we children of narcissistic parents are forced to be awesome to survive. But besides our survival skills, we, like all kids, were awesome from the beginning just by being kids. Our parents just couldn’t see it. The really hard thing for me that keeps sending me back to my therapist’s couch aren’t the ugly moments…guess I’ve processed through most of those…but the really great memories peppered over my turd of a childhood. Were THOSE real? Will the real loving dad please stand up? Abuse is hard because usually it’s not all-or-nothing. My dad said “I love you” a lot too, but now that I truly know unconditional love, I don’t know if he meant it. Or maybe HE meant it, but not the way I would mean it.

    • Right? I sometimes think it would have been easier if he were a dick all the time..but you never knew what you were going to get..I think that’s where a lot of anxiety came from.

      • So much this!
        If my father had been an asshole all the time, I just could have hated him wholeheartedly without those confusing daughterly love feelings getting in the way.

          • And I’m sorry you had to go through the experiences you write about.

            At least we know what not to do to kids and/or spouses.
            As my husband and I are happily child-free, I apply myself to being kind to him and our two cats.

          • I used to be sorry, but I’m not anymore. Every moment in my life brought me here. I am not crazy about some things, but I love my family (and our two cats) and wouldn’t trade them for all the peace of mind in the world.

  21. My brother called me and said I have some news. Not good, not bad, just news. My dad died last year and with that a chapter closed. I hadn’t seen him or talked to him in over 27 years, although I did hear snippets from family members as to where he was living, what he was up to. It probably took 25 of those years to finally get rid of the toxicity that, living with a sexual/physical abuser for 18 years, accumulated in the centre of my soul. I grew up wishing for a normal father yet found the idea of my friends hugging their father repugnant. I wanted to feel safe to come home, not keep swallowing the fear from entering the house and not knowing the atmosphere inside.

    He died alone. My brother had been keeping tabs on him the past few years and arranged a get together for my aunts and cousins. It must have seemed odd to them that 3 of his 4 children didn’t attend or send a card, flowers. It wasn’t a celebration of life. His life offered nothing to celebrate. His death didn’t bring closure, or a sense of relief. I had released the fear and the anger in me over the course of a very long time and now just feel empathy for a life that knew no real joy or appreciation for what he had had.

    • I agree…that’s the part that makes me feel..that he wasted so much. I know it wasn’t even his fault..not really, he’s mentally ill..but that doesn’t make it easy as a daughter.

  22. I am so lucky to have an amazing dad. At 82, he’s slowed down significantly and likely only has a couple years left in him. But I am so thankful that he is mine. He was the only stable person in my life when I was a kid, and probably the only reason that I can function as a human. So sorry that you were not so lucky.

    (My mother, on the other hand was a narcissistic, depressive nightmare. So there’s that).

  23. Reading this served to remind me how damn lucky I am, I have a wonderful father who has always put his children first a father who when he went made at me would come into my room later and ask “are we still friends” and would sit and ask me if I understood why he got mad with me, if I said no he would try and explain to me why he had been mad and he would tell me even though he got mad he stilled loved me.

  24. My father was wonderful but he died when I was 18. I know if he was still around that things would have been very different for me. My mother, on the other hand is the complete opposite of my father. I recently just learned what a narcissist is – and that’s my mother. I grew up with absolutely no boundaries where she was concerned and it wasn’t until I got into a serious relationship that I started establishing those. We’ve been battling for the last two years just to set appropriate, “Normal” boundaries. Therapy has helped a TON! Still, sometimes it’s exhausting and the relationship I have with her has suffered greatly. Sometimes I even feel like I’m raising her when it should have been the other way around. I guess it’s not just crappy fathers but mother’s too.

    • Nope..it’s not just fathers…there are plenty of female narcissists as well. I am sorry you lost your dad at such a young age and sorry you are going through this with your mother. It’s not an easy thing to work through. I wish you peace.

  25. there are tears in my eyes. I have so many fears for my children – and this ranks highest – especially for my daughter. My grandmother, my mother, myself – all a cycle – and I repeated it. And now I’ve given it to my daughter. Hopefully she can break it.

  26. Amen, sister. Now I know why I’m so rigid about not caring whether someone says they love me when they treat me callously. My mom keeps trying to rekindle a relationship and I just can’t bring myself to answer her emails. I mean to, I want to care, but I know too well there be dragons.

  27. For me, it’s my mother. I’m certain she has an undiagnosed personality disorder. And my father enables it. I’ve spent years trying to figure shit out, and the only thing that has really made me have forward progress is the birth of my daughter. Now I realize that Mom made her choices. No matter what Dad says, I’m not being hard on her. I’m not being unreasonable. The terrible things she says and does are not something I need to worry about. What I need to worry about is raising Morrigan, our relationship, ensuring I listen and hear her.

    My mother has to continue living with how she treats me. I no longer have to own it as somehow my fault.

  28. Made me cry. Sharing with my own Babygirl, whose father has made some really shitty decisions. I was so lucky with my own Dad. He was not perfect (who is?) but he was a good dad and I knew, above all, that I was loved.

    Just wish my ex could see how lucky he is to have two amazing kids. Life is passing him by, and he doesn’t even know.

  29. when i was 13 my father chose to run off with his then-secretary, leaving a wife and 4 children behind. prior to his leaving he really never was a father to me, preferring my younger baby sister and younger 2 brothers to me. for some reason i was never good enough for him and it shaped my life in trying to measure up to unattainable standards he laid down for me. i was never good enough for him, always too fat, too slow, easy to ignore. when he made the decision to leave, he left behind a devastated wife who’s life had revolved around him. for their 15 years of marriage she tended to his home, children and career selflessly. our life truly resembled that which we watched on television in shows like “Leave it to Beaver” or “Father Knows Best.” i assumed the major share of responsibility for his leaving. my attempts at reconciliation with him were rebuffed time and time again and eventually his sister (my aunt) told me he never wanted to see his children again! i learned our names were not allowed to be mentioned in his house, ever! when he married his paramour and they began adopting children i finally came to the realization that it wasn’t that he didnt want children. he didnt want me! many years of therapy got me through the minefield of hurt and disappointment, but through it all i spent a great deal of time tamping down the feelings with alcohol, drugs and men.
    making a long story short, a few months ago he died, putting in the grave the long-imagined dream of sitting and having a conversation with him. ive imagined that for 50 years and was truly relieved to have that option finally moot. its over and i am left to feel as you have enlightened me . . . that it is HIS loss to not have known me. i have a wonderful home and family! my siblings are wonderful, imaginative people who are a pleasure to know. he has missed the delight of grandchildren and great-grandchildren bring into ones life. thank you for this opportunity to express this long-buried grief. by exhuming it and looking at it in the cold light of day gives me pause to remember that regardless of this one persons opinion, i AM capable of being loved and my life has been proof of that! bless you!

    • Oh wow..this made me teary.

      First of all…I am so very sorry you had to go through that. How horrible for a child. What a dick your father was!! What a horrible way to treat his children.

      I am so glad that you found this helpful. It’s when I read something like this that I am grateful that I’ve chosen to write about my personal life, because trust me, there are many moments when I feel it’s been a bad decision to expose myself in this way..so thank you for helping me with that!. I wish you nothing but peace, sister.

  30. wow, i just wrote a similar piece and after posting it felt like a freak of nature, i admit, i still feel that free floating shame as i seem to be surrounded by people with such healthy family relationships. I just found your blog from the article What to Wear After 50, I loved it so much, I had to check out some more of your writing and this article is so meaningful to me, THANK YOU.

    if you have any interest, here’s my hastily written piece:
    http://badmannerscancer.blogspot.com/2015/01/book-proposal.html

    k

  31. Wow, Michelle, I have identified with many of your posts about narcissistic parents, but this one, where you are coming to terms with the reality of your father, realizing that none of it was your fault, that you were worthy and he missed out, brought me to tears. For me it was my mother. We were never close, and until my father died of cancer when I was 22, he was the buffer between me and my mother, the parent that I identified with and emulated. Once he passed away, I grew even further away from my mother, from her bizarre, self-centered idea that I should live my life according to her plan, and excel to give her something to brag about. It was awful, and I probably only saw her once a year or so for 20 years. Make no mistake, it wasn’t just me staying away. She had her own life and didn’t care to be inconvenienced. Fast forward to February 2012, when her significant other chose the same time as her surgery to be on a solo trip, so she needed me, and I got the call. I went and in the time I was with her, it became clear that she had memory issues. 6 months later, she got the dementia diagnosis, and two years ago, I had to move her near me to a care facility. I never once considered moving her in with me. Honestly, I knew better. I did feel guilt, and therapy helped me through that. I can truly say now that I am no longer in pain over my lifetime of dealing with a narcissist mother; I have come to terms with the fact that it was a defect in her, not me. Finally. And since her diagnosis and decline, she has become a kinder person, and despite the fact that she is a shadow of her former self, I have been able to forgive her.

    Thank you for creating this dialog; it helped me, and I can see it has helped many others in this tribe. XXOO Lynne

      • Kim, I don’t feel amazing. I feel like I was the only option. I love my sister, but when it came right down to it, she was all talk and no action. It has gotten easier to be with mom since her disease has basically erased the awful person she was. Sad, but true.

  32. It’s times like these I always think of that Madonna song, “Oh Father” where she says “You didn’t mean to be cruel; somebody hurt you, too…”. I believe that, yet sometimes I don’t believe that. Depends on the person, I guess.

    An uncle of mine was inappropriately fond of little girls. I am one of an entire family of women who were victims to his damage. When I, as one of the younger generation, came forward and an elder matriarch confronted him, not only did he insult me by saying he didn’t remember hurting me (I guess the number of us was WAY too high at that point!) but he begged forgiveness from our matriarch by saying that he was abused as a child, too.

    What I DO know is that NONE of his victims went on to do what he did to children… that I know of. I can speak confidently for myself on this one. So maybe that just means that some of us can avoid the repetition of bad history…

    Either way we are not obligated to “make nice” just because time has passed or “s/he’s your father/mother/uncle”. We are only obligated to do what’s right for us – what keeps us healthy & happy… πŸ™‚

      • I bet his own son is even sorrier – lifetime criminal and weirdo. At least I won’t go to my grave feeling guilty for a lifetime of damaging actions towards other people…

        That uncle of mine died alone in a nursing home; I found out after searching his whereabouts online. Not that I’m celebrating this fact; it’s just that it’s true what they say – “What goes around, comes around”. πŸ™‚

  33. Now that I think of it, I super HOPE this isn’t redundant – I’m kinda feeling like I may have mentioned that Madonna song in another comment thread…. sorry if I have! πŸ˜‰

  34. Ok, now I know for sure you are in my head! Thank you so much! Without going into detail it seems your father’s type was my father’s type and until the day he died I physically felt a load on myself I didn’t feel free of until the day he died. This may not be pc or whatever but thank GOD i’m still young enough (52) to rebuild a healthy relationship with myself. My mom was great and encouraging and strong and solid as a rock. My dad just sucked and finally someone is writing about how it feels! BRAVO GIRL!!!

    • I am so glad you found this then…when I say it makes it worth while to write about this shit, I mean it. It makes it totally worth it when someone connects and feels better. It’s not always easy because I feel very vulnerable putting my life out there. That is a risk. But it makes it worth it when I feel less alone and I know I’m helping other people feel that way, too.

      I also feel very arrogant saying that.

  35. “We listen to other women talk about their fathers with adoration and respect and we feel curious and envious.” This is EXACTLY how I feel! I so wanted to be a “daddy’s girl” — and I never was — no matter how hard I tried to get him to notice me and engage with me. I realize now that he was coming from a childhood where he was only seen and not heard and no love was expressed — but I wanted him to TRY for me.

  36. I haven’t directly “communicated” with my narcissistic father since Thanksgiving 1999. People ask me often if I miss him, but despite the lingering effects of his rule over my childhood and the fallout of mistrust, the Last 15 years of my life have been so freeing without him around. I still haven’t decided if I will be able to go to his funeral when that time comes due to him failing to attend his father’s. But I have let go of the every day hate.

  37. Ugh. Feeling bad for him is the worst, so don’t worry about not feeling compassion! Despite years of therapy, codependents anonymous meetings, books, internet articles, self-coaching, etc etc, my narcissistic dad always manages to make me feel sorry for him and feel guilty that we’re not closer.

    And, KK, I hope you’re right, that he’s not “the worst type,” but I recently learned that I was wrong in having thought the same thing about my dad. After being with a truly malicious and malignant narcissist/sociopath of a husband, I had classified my dad as a benign narcissist. “Oh, he’s just like an overgrown toddler always needing to be the center of attention, but he means no harm and he’s got a good heart…”

    He may well have a good heart, but that doesn’t make him any less manipulative, selfish and blind to needs and qualities of those around him. Found that out the hard way and I was so surprised that it took me weeks to figure out what had brought out his lying and manipulating and downright nastiness.

    I realized that it was the first time in my 50+ years that we hadn’t just handed him the reins and gone along with anything that he wanted to do, which is how all prior interactions and visits with Dad had gone. Yes, we’d be irritated and exhausted by his endless monologues and rapid-fire questions disguised as interest but machine-gunned at us too fast to actually answer, but we’d long since gotten over feeling hurt or angry by his utter lack of interest in his children or their lives. We understood that he is who he is and we could either accept it and do our best to live with it in small doses or cut off interaction with him altogether.

    We’ll probably slide back into our standard for coping: hand him the reins and just go along for the long, torturous ride whenever we’re around him. But now and forever, we know that beneath the seemingly benign narcissist hides a truly disturbing malignant narcissist who won’t hesitate to lie directly to our faces, manipulate, and bully to get his way in anything and everything, no matter how seemingly small or insignificant.

    I think it’s a lesson I’ll never stop learning — because I still regularly fall prey to narcissists. Not usually for long, but long enough to be mad that I’ve been sucked in again.

    Thanks for writing these posts, Michelle — it’s like a life-affirming support group here!

    ; )

  38. You wrote “He was lucky to have me”. That shook me to my very core. I never looked at my relationship with both of my parents that way, but you are right, they are very lucky to have me as their daughter. They wasted life and time being the way they are. Thank you so much for this post.

  39. Yes he was lucky to have you. Sorry he didn’t click into that reality. Having shitty parents myself, I completely get this post. I don’t often think of the “what ifs” but my twin brother does and it makes me hurt for him. Now that I’m a parent I see things a little differently……I apologize to my kids a lot. I tell them I’m not perfect and I’m doing my best, as is their father. I think kids have this thought (I did) that their parents should be perfect and um, we’re not. I’m at a place now where I don’t hate my parents and I can feel some compassion. I also need to have boundaries and buffers for myself so I don’t get sucked into my mom’s abyss. Geezus it’s just hard having f*cked up parents and I am trying like hell not to be one.

  40. Yeah. I had a bad father too. Difference being that I have to put up with people dismissing me because they assume that I am him. Ever try to be the best person you can be only to be compared to the worst you have ever known?

  41. I know I just tweeted at you, but I can never get everything I want to say to fit into a tweet.
    No one escapes from childhood unscathed is my motto. I still haven’t figured out how to find and keep a good relationship, though at 58 I’m oddly optimistic.
    You’re take on your father’s pathology is wise, and probably serves you well. It’s important to understand that narcissists are broken and can’t be fixed. Not to excuse them, but as you say, to frame their behavior in a way that it isn’t a reflection on some failure or deficiency in ourselves. <3

  42. I have always struggled on Mother’s and Father’s days. I never knew my father, and the stepfather I had for a little while was nothing to write home about. All the sweet happy stuff that people share on social media I was never able to relate to. Yes, curious, and envious.

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