I know I’ve mentioned before that I am in no way an expert in narcissism. I’m not qualified to advise anyone. For all I know, I could be completely fucking wrong about everything I write here.
Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, I will write about something I am an expert in: being the adult child of a narcissist.
I think that children of narcissism have their range of motion constricted.
Not just their range of motion in their heads, but their actual range of motion.
My narcissistic father let me know every day how wrong I was. I was wrong in my actions, my opinions, and my thoughts. I learned these lessons in a big bad way. I gathered more and more into my self.
When you question everything you feel or do, then you are not going to be naturally inclined to really reach those arms out and wave or grab something from a top shelf. You won’t easily put them around other people and squeeze them. Instead, you hold your elbows in. You might flutter your hands a little, but big easy waves are just out of the question.
What does this mean? For me, it meant that in my teen years, I was always going to play right field on my co-ed softball team. I was small and wasn’t very strong. I couldn’t throw. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t actually MAKE the throw from second base to first base. Making the throw from third to first was right out.
I wasn’t good at catching the balls, either. My method involved cringing, sticking a glove out, and hoping like fuck that I didn’t actually catch it.
I had a little more success with hitting. It was quite liberating to smash something with a bat. I liked that part. The other team would see tiny little me at the plate and call everyone in to the in field. Mostly, I struck out. Second to strike outs, were hits popped directly back to the pitcher. But every 5th or 6th hit, I could hit the ball into the outfield and the other team would scramble.
This was actually not a good thing. Making it on base was terrible for me. I was slow. I’d always have a guy running the bases right behind me yelling for me to run faster.
Maybe, if I hadn’t been raised by a narcissist, I would have been just as terrible a softball player, but maybe not. Maybe, I would have thrown my arms out to catch a ball and throw a ball without fear that I was doing it wrong or that people were looking at me. I might have been a little better of a player. Or, I might not have cared nearly as much as I did about being a bad player.
I have a friend who is this brilliant musician and has a personality that is as kind as it is big. I adore her. When she tells a story, she will reach with her arms and wave them about. At first, it made me uncomfortable. How is she DOING that? The elbows aren’t supposed to leave the sides! Once I got past that uncomfortable observation, I was fascinated. How freeing. How good it would feel to reach for something and to feel my range of motion expand.
I can’t do anything about playing right field when I was younger.
That doesn’t have to be true for me now. If I want to play positions where I have to run, reach, and catch, then I have to take my elbows away from my sides.
It’s not easy, but I’ve done it a few times. I think I can do it more often.
Even if I don’t make it out of right field, I can still own that bitch. Besides, there isn’t anything WRONG with right field.
Someone has to play that position.
I can SO relate! My mother is a narcissist and I find myself playing small, not reaching out, not taking risks, not being fully myself, waiting for someone to criticize my very soul for existing. Asking for permission to breathe practically and here I am 48 years old and still holding my breath, afraid to be me because being me is a huge, horrible, messy, ridiculous mistake. But in not being me I just float along not sure who the hell I am supposed to be or who that critical voice that now lives in my head thinks I should be. Mediocre and safe is where I currently reside. And it is making me crazy. I am ready to burst out, but how? I’m working ont it, but it’s like trying to find your way through a maze with your feet bound, wearing a blindfold and a straitjacket with duct tape over your mouth.
HA! it IS like finding your way through a maze all bound up!
Sister, I don’t know HOW you do it. I’ve been taking little steps. And I started seeing a therapist last week..so we’ll see how it goes.
You know..speaking from just reading your one comment, I think you have things to say and you are eloquent. Let those colors show!
Totally me….
I know, sister…we are cut from the same cloth. We just have different accents. 🙂
Thanks so much. I do love to write and I have been told many times I need to do more of that. I was actually thinking today – it’s time to find my voice and take up some space on this damn planet. Flail my arms and raise my voice and (god forbid) be silly and honest and authentic and show my true self to world. Let’s see if the world will actually explode and cease to exist as a result. 🙂
Thanks so much for your words of encouragement and for creating a space for me and others to be real and hear ourselves. I look forward to reading more of your blogs. It’s like we share the same brain. I read your blogs and it’s like I wrote them myself. Interesting how the Universe brings people on to our paths as a light to help us find our way.
THIS is why I am doing this. It is just so awesome. Thanks for commenting! And you SHOULD write your shit down!
i understand completely. it’s the conundrum of the adult who spent their childhood walking on eggshells afraid to draw attention to themselves. the attention that both success and failure draws.
i get it.
Thank you so much! And that is exactly it..it’s not success or failure that is frightening..it’s all of it.
Well, this is a lovely post. And I think right field is great. And that your elbows will come out from your sides more and more every day.
Thank you so much! Since I wrote that, I am more aware of how confined I feel and how ready I am to let it go..
As usual, I can relate. I think I responded to my father’s narcissism by becoming a defensive pessimist. I think of all of the things that can possibly go wrong, and then I methodically prepare for each one. (If there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, stick with me. I’m ready.)
This strategy worked pretty well for me in school (study ALL THE THINGS) but not so well in life (worry about EVERYTHING). Interestingly, now that I’m in my 40s I’ve picked two occupations (EMS instructor and EMT on an ambulance) in which I can’t possibly be prepared for everything that my students and my patients are going to throw at me. So I think this is my underhanded way of trying to break out and become more myself.
I still won’t dance in public, though.
I always assume the worst is going to happen.
My plan for the zombie invasion is to just go ahead and get bit right away, and then bite the people I don’t like.
You know..you should make it a goal to dance in public..even just once. Have you watched other people dance? HAHAHAHAH
This is very interesting. I played table tennis for my school and uni teams and I moved a lot. However, I find it extremely uncomfortable when faced with a social situation that involves “letting go with exuberance” or any form of contact. Do you think this is related to your movement observation?
Btw, I think it’s about not drawing attention to oneself (because we are not worthy) and making ourselves invisible (paradoxically, by putting on weight).
Hmmm…I dunno, I guess it could be. I’m making this shit up as I go along…well…maybe not making it up as much as I’m trying to figure it out.
I can totally relate to not moving, not making myself big or drawing attention to myself. For me, it’s like I feel like I need to apologize for taking space or ask permission to exist. It’s like I am some huge imposition.
I wrote 4 pages last night about how I am feeling about all this and the anger I feel about having to apologize for living and feeling like I am taking up too much room and how I am such a huge ridiculous mistake. It felt good to get it all out there. I have been trying to “figure it all out”. I talked to my amazing boyfriend last night who also has a mother similar to mine and he made me realize that sometimes you just have to say “fuck it”. Some shit is just too crazy to figure out, fix, or deal with. Easier said than done, but my mission this week is to just not deal with it. Fuck it. I am going to be me. Unapologetically me, weird, wonderful, silly, weird, messed up, me. 🙂 I am going to take up room, not ask for permission to exist and I am no longer going to try to be a “good daughter” or worry whether that crazy bitch tells the world how horrible I am because I am not coming to visit her or however I am not honoring the Queen and her every desire. 🙂 And I am going to flail my arms in the air, dance and make an ass out of myself. Look at me!! LOL Anyone else want to join me? I think this week I will find bubbles and blow bubbles in my back yard. Because it is silly and I want to. And I can. And maybe I will dance in my living room with my curtains open. Who knows what is possible but it’s time to break free and finally breathe, free of the straitjacket of fear, self-loathing and criticism.
This is the greatest thing I’ve read in a long time! You GO with your big bad self!!!!
My dad was totally a narcissist– we don’t speak any more. But I must have carried those wounds a little too long because the first guy I was ever involved with was horrifyingly narcissistic, manipulative, and abusive. Your words “you are not going to be naturally inclined to really reach those arms out and wave or grab something from a top shelf or easily put them around other people and squeeze them. Instead, you hold your elbows in” made me feel a little burning in my chest because I know exactly what you mean.
But like you said… You can pull your elbows out from your sides. It’s not easy, but you can. Great post.
I think it’s normal for us to wind up with a narc because it’s what we know. Our ability to have a healthy relationship was destroyed or at least compromised. Understanding makes all the difference.
And thank you so much! We can do this.
I am going to go hug my kid and tell her I love her.
Yay! And you have such good hugs!
as a fellow right fielder, damn right someone has to play that.
and i’ll bet you’d kick ass now.
Oh god…I don’t think so. I’m old and tired now. haha. But more fearless..I am that..so maybe.
I spent time on my own this summer, on vacation, and the voices in my head that had been critizing me for umpteen years were finally loud enough so that I noticed them. Damn them. It took a week and a half but they mattered less after…. Not gone but I can see them for what they were. Not real. I did just fine without constant critique and correction and shaming thank you very much. Big eye opener. Now I have a sword and will slay…. Be warned evil thoughts!
I still work on that, but I’m better than I used to be.