Tag: Emotional abuse

  • The Breadcrumbing tactic

    The Breadcrumbing tactic

    One of the confusing things about growing up and living with someone who is emotionally abusive (and this also applies to physically abusive too), is that they are rarely abusive all the time.

    Some people are, and that id learned to switch off from my parents at an early age would indicate that I knew they were unsafe, and emotionally neglectful and immature.

    Because if someone is abusive all the time, then, unless they were trapped in the relationship, and spousal, or parental relation is certainly entrapping, the person on the receiving end is more likely to leave, and do so pretty quick, especially if theres a safe alternative.

    In my own experience of surviving abuse I was on the receiving end of this trick.

    Its known as Breadcrumbing.

    and for someone like me who likes watching wildlife, at Cowpen Bewley Duck pond, the image is pretty accurate.

    Families every now and then show up with bread for the ducks. The left overs, the scraps. Its rarely/never the first slice of the sourdough or granary crusted loaf. But each time, the ducks swim to the shore, ready to be fed.

    The problem with too much bread is that it causes issued with Ducks. But they forget and devour it anyway.

    Its the same with Breadcrumbing.

    Its like swallowing ultimately toxic bread, receiving the scrappy gifts from abuser, to keep you heading back to the shore. Like a pavlov dog, but in duck form.

    This video is where I first came across there term, do have a look

    Breadcrumbing in an abusive relationship has a number of aims, depending on the type of abuse.

    1. To try and create confusion in your mind that this person isn’t always abusive/horrid
    2. For the abuser to show to others that they are ‘trying’
    3. For you to give them a second/another chance

    In my own experience I’ve tasted the breadcrumbs. I think there’s a number of different types, both physical, verbal, emotional and financial. I probably don’t need to describe all the different options used some include:

    1. Overly Expressive physical gifts
    2. Sex
    3. Promises of verbal affection ‘Im trying to be good’, ‘Ill try harder’ ‘ill say I love you every day..if you do’
    4. Offering to help you when you’re in dire need, but this is out of character (abusers can love playing rescue, especially if you’re ill)
    5. Financial gifts,
    6. Being given a pay rise of 3% as NHS staff through the pandemic – when theres corruption elsewhere. (Yes, sometimes breadcrumbs are scattered to ‘feast on’ by the hungry ducks, when theres first class feasting happening elsewhere.
    7. Some physical help, again to rescue you.
    8. A one off, unguarded moment or experience that ‘wasn’t that bad’ – the fun stops when your feelings and needs are considered though…As long as you were enjoying their fun…
    9. They might even ‘do’ something to keep you happy – like fulfil a request, like go to AA or therapy, but its only as a trick, and not done with authenticity

    Whatever it is, its crumbs from the table, to keep you going back..

    For some of us though, the crumbs themselves have been toxic, not even nice bread at all. I know of gifts given to me that make for uncomfortable receiving. Like trying to be grateful for a ‘gift’ of reduced priced food, or napkins, or presents that were clearly won on raffle tickets. Some of those gifts evoked beatings as a child, for not being ‘grateful’ , and I wasn’t the only one. On some occasions these were justified because I was just ‘spoilt’ for asking for too much.

    One of the problems, as Lindsay C Gibson writes is that the breadcrumbs represent a kind of misplaced hope that we think ‘they may have changed’ or that ‘we think that the relationship may be better’ , and as a child what happens is that the child hops around that parent like an hungry bird, trying to elicit some kind of positive response from them. The abusive parent, or partner, gives away the occasional reason to keep hoping. Though some, as I experiences really dont bother.

    Gibson writes that somer Emotionally immature parents can be generous, with a catch. (Gibson, C 2019) . Giving with their own tastes in mind, and what they would like to get, they give to themselves by proxy, and sometimes get it right, but rarely. And even though they say they might be ‘being fair’ the bread crumbing from parents is different to different children, as it fuels the division and projects the different roles for each of the siblings.

    It makes sense though doesn’t it, and is a reason why the receiving of gifts is so difficult beyond an abusive relationship, because what’s been received has often been gifts chucked like breadcrumbs to the ducks.

    The thing is, how many crumbs do you accept before realising it?

    What do you do to realise its only the crumbs you’re getting, when you deserve better?

    References

    Gibson , Lindsay C – Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents 2019

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 18) Terrified by breakfast table Jesus.

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 18) Terrified by breakfast table Jesus.

    Christ is the Head of this house

    So far, in parts 1-17 of my story of what I needed to do to survive psychopathic parenting, I have talked alot about emotional abuse, emotional neglect, narcissism and the drama triangle, and the eggshells that had top be continually walked upon. I haven’t really talked about the spiritual weaponising that associated all of this as I grew up.

    At the same time as all of the events I have described went on, it was all occurring in a ‘home’ that outwardly professed to be a ‘Christian’ one. So much so, that for most times in my life I would have said ‘I grew up in a Christian home’ . Now id say I grew up in an abusive home and my parents also had an evangelical faith.

    What did this mean?

    It meant that I grew up with a distorted sense of God.

    ‘Family’ mealtimes of course included ‘saying grace’ – but also this ritual meant having to be ‘serious’ and ‘saying grace properly’ – and at times having to be thankful for food that was delivered with little care or value.

    Breakfast was accompanied by an elongated daily bible reading – usually ‘Our Daily Bread’ and lengthy prayers by the parents afterwards.

    The unseen guest

    Prayers that were often messages, sorry, prayers that were messages of morality to us as children. Im not going to say that they didnt pray for exams or issues (that they knew about) – but thats not really what I remember. This time was enforced on me (us as it included may sister too) , it was as important as the eating part.

    It enforced daily that God was on their side. It enforced daily a time that they projected outwards to keep casting moral messages to us as children. They knew God, God was on their side. God was a weapon they used to control our behaviour.

    The Silent listener

    ‘We pray that we (though looking at me) dont behave like the older child when the prodigal returned (on the brief occasion my sister started going to church)’

    ‘We pray that the lost are returned, and you accept us when we return (looking at my sister who had stopped going to church)’

    There were many that were worse than this.

    Im not sure that the writers of ‘Our Daily Bread’ had this in mind, when they ensured that evangelical parents were starting every day with this, and reading it publically in front of their children as a control, a weapon.

    Christ is the Head of this House

    The Unseen guest at every meal

    The Silent listener of every conversation

    Was hung bold and in a red (not green) background large and proud in the dining room.

    On a blood red background.

    In a place where it had to be walked past every day to get the kitchen, or to where our shoes were kept in the back room.

    It was put there as deliberately.

    God was on their side. God was to be terrified of.

    God was watching us. (he wasnt watching them)

    In his book ‘Ghost Ship’ A.D.A France-Williams writes…

    My mum would point to this piece of terror art and use it as a motif of her and Gods total surveillance. So whatever I was getting up to at home, I was being watched

    A.D.A France-Williams (2020)

    My mum would always sit on the side of the table nearest the kitchen. That may have been one reason. The other was that it meant that, as she dominated every conversation, that picture was in view behind her head. She didnt point to it, as the author of Ghost ship described. In my case the picture was to be as feared as its message.

    God was to be terrified of. He was no help in the emotional abuse, in fact he was on their side.

    A.D.A was right though. This was terror art.

    We were being literally watched.

    From being Sunday school leaders and Primary school dinner ladies. We were being watched.

    If we didnt behave in church that morning, or in Sunday school, there were repercussions afterwards.

    They were watching, God was watching. God was to be terrified of, because she was to be terrified of. The God who was said to be about love – was delivered by the parents with bucketloads of added fear, terror and morality.

    God was abused by them.

    As an older teenager , who fearfully stayed within the box, I remember going to one of the bigger christian festivals in the mid to late 1990’s, and someone there talked about ‘Father God’ and if what we might need do ‘if people have a poor image of God because of a damaged relationship with their Dad’. Which is all perfectly legitimate. But I wonder about what space there was to talk about a damaged relationship with God, because of the way that he was presented as a child. What about the effect an abusive mother who was a powerful evangelical woman, could have on the image of a child, a teen..and me? What about, as I know now, that God the father to me was unprotective, abused and also silent?

    As she damaged the whole family, doing so claiming that God was on her side.

    Fast forward 40 odd years to me writing this now. looking back, what did I do to survive?

    I did what I had to do, and that was try not to upset or go against them, or make things difficult for them. Those eggshells to navigate on the ground were multi facetted. I conformed, out of fear. And eventually, and only because they left that church, it could become a place of safety. (Yes, they left the church, thats been a common pattern ever since)

    Its no wonder I grew up with a large dose of evangelical fear and self loathing . I internalised all of that fear, guilt, shame. I hid myself, disconnected, and ultimately ran away as far, geographically as I could.

    Before then though, I had started to re think God. I felt home, and also something of a different God in places where I felt safe. However, I, took on the same devout faith as them, usually not because I wanted to, but because I thought it was make them proud or pleased of me. An impossible task, as I have realised now. Its what abuse does to you, you keep going back for more beatings even if you’re carrying a bunch of flowers, flowers you think they will like.

    I did discover that God was and is love. Though removing the shed skin of being traumatically terrified of God can be hard to shift.

    Im working on what faith is, beyond trauma, in the midst of reconnecting with myself all the time. Im learned that I dont have to keep going back to God with flowers to show my efforts. I can do what was always words sung, I can ‘be still’. Be still and know. As I’m learning to know myself, and to be myself, im discovering faith new again.

  • The Power of Story: Healing through Harry Potter

    The Power of Story: Healing through Harry Potter

    ‘Why are you reading those, they’re just children books’

    I once said to my late friend Bex Lewis about 7 years ago, and then I sat with her and watched a scene of one of the films, one with dementors in, I think. Fast forward a few years and my daughter Anna proposed that we watch the films as part of what was a family tradition then, movie night. I think I fell asleep in some of them, maybe all.

    At the age of 43 I have just finished reading the Harry Potter books for the first time.

    It was as if I wasn’t ready to see what I needed to see in them.

    At the weekend I finished reading the last book of the Harry Potter series. Its taken me 18 months to read them all.

    On one hand Harry Potter has accompanied me through the time of the Pandemic, so far. It has also accompanied me as I have processed significant family abuse and also the death of my grandmother last year.

    I remember once reading that JK Rowling grew up as Harry grew and developed in her own writing of the novels, to me there is no doubt that Harry undergoes significant internal processing and healing throughout the books, in a way that I didn’t encounter in other mythical hero stories such as Lord of the Rings or Narnia.

    What I saw in Harry was a boy who struggled to express the truth in the face of his abusers – and yet when he was able to it was no relief, it was exhausting.

    What I saw in Harry was a co-dependent child who suffered physical and neglectful abuse – who was desperate to please, and had instincts to be the hero – a default that those who were evil could manipulate.

    What I saw in Harry was that not everyone experiences Trauma the same, I think the Boggarts in the wardrobe is a fascinating section.

    What I saw in Harry was someone who understood what it was like to grow up alone, and to have to grow up fast in that space.

    What I saw in Harry Potter was also stuff about friendship, power, structures, rules and community.

    So it isn’t ‘just’ a children book – but you all knew this already.

    Its a myth, a parable, a story, its a healing story that I believe could only be written by someone who had experience of abuse, from family, and relationships, someone who describes what narcissistic behaviour looks, and feels like

    The air felt cold and lifeless, as if it had everything sucked out of it

    I thought reading Harry Potter would be the relaxing read to partner with reading the self help books and undergoing trauma therapy. What it was actually was, was a story that revealed what I needed to heal from.

    Maybe its me and that I struggle to stop thinking – or maybe its that I identified with Harry from virtually the first page. It wasnt far into the second book when the extent of the emotional neglect I experienced as a child was beginning to be revealed to me. I could see myself as Harry in a way that I had never identified with the Hobbits, or Edward or Peter as they looked in the wardrobe.

    I wrote in a previous pieces about how I began to feel that the universe was calling and directing the process of healing in me, especially in being open to see them, some of those healing particles were discovered in the Harry Potter series.

    David Macadams writes that we adopt stores to live our lives by, setting ourselves into a narrative that causes us to have purpose and identity.

    Karen Armstrong writes that we are mythical beings and that the literary writers of the last 150 years have been those who have engaged our mythical nature in a way that the religious stories of our historic past have been reduced to moral making.

    I wouldn’t say that reading Harry Potter was a healing experience, by the time I finished the last one I was drained and exhausted. But what it did do was help me see. There is great power in story, as it weaves its magic wand to reveal its mysteries.

    I was reminded about how fearful some parts of the church were/are about Harry Potter. Its unlikely that the reasons for this were from a position of having not read it. For, its not the magic that evangelicals should fear, its that churches and structures are revealed in the story to be manipulated, controlling and abusive. Its the magic that overcomes, a deeper magic. Its a book about revealing the truth, about revealing abuse.

    But its also a book that reinforces the view that children are still alone. Adults fleeting offer a combination of support (Mrs Weasley) , fun (Hagrid), wisdom (Dumbledore, and in a lesser way McConagall), paternal substitute (Sirius) , but in the face of the many struggles to overcome, none are ultimately comepletely effective, responsible, true, or fair. Maybe that is the point, maybe that’s the reality, but it does cause me to question where children and young people might find, and see models and examples of responsible, protective, emotionally healthy adults in their lives. They see glimpses of it in Harry Potter, and clues are given away by those adults to offer glimpses, but in the main the three (and the other supporting children, Ginny, Henry, George, Luna, Seamus, Neville etc) are those who have to put the complete jigsaw together, and have the agency on them to overcome. Then again, if there was such a character, there would be no need for Harry, Ron and Hermione to have to do what they had to do.

    At times reading Harry Potter I felt extraordinarily emotional. I think I cried on a number of occasions, I was also triggered at times too. All of that is a good thing. Stories have the power to reveal, and to heal.

    What fiction has done for me during the process of healing has continued to open up my heart. Thats the power of the story. I might be able to intellectually understand the abuse I suffer from reading the books and the case studies. This is undoubtedly helpful. But Stories, like Harry Potter, and also Matilda have been as instrumental too.

    References:

    Karen Armstrong: A Short History of Myth, 2018

    David MaCadams, The Stories we live by, 1996

    The Harry Potter Series, JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books.

  • Recovering and Healing (Part 2); The book that saved my life

    Recovering and Healing (Part 2); The book that saved my life

    Ask yourself the question; ‘What book saved your life’?

    If you are in anyway spiritual, then it might be likely that a sacred text, the Bible or the Ko’ran might be the book that went some way to saving your life.

    But aside from a sacred text – can you name a book that , honestly, saved your life?

    Not just a good book, an inspiring book, a book that you’d take on a desert island.. but a book that saved your life? That had that much impact on you, that it literally saved you. Some of the stuff Matt Haig writes has had a profound impact, as has the cartoons of Charlie Mackay – but could you name a book that saved your life?

    I could.

    It was the first book I read as I started to heal. It was this one

    to buy it a link is here

    From the very first page, this book spoke in a language that I hadn’t heard before.

    It told me about me.

    It told me about what I had tried to cope with all my life.

    It meant that I wasnt alone.

    Nina makes these assumptions about the reader, writing on page 3:

    You are an adult child who has one or more self-absorbed parents

    You can feel ineffective much of the time in interactions with your parents

    You have been given the responsibility for your parents psychological and emotional well being and, either now or in the future, are expected to assume responsibility for your parents physical well-being

    You never feel that you have accomplished enough for your parent; what you do never seems to be good enough

    You experience numerous difficult situations and interactions with your self absorbed parent

    You are searching for ways to minimalist how your parents distressing behaviours and attitudes affect you

    You want to intervene to protect those nearest to you, such as your children, from the negative and distressing comments, put downs, criticism and the like that your parent continues to make

    Nina Brown, 2015

    Now, im not saying that each and every one of these was applicable when I read this book over 2 years ago. Without giving anything away, some very significant things have happened to enable these things to have happened in the last year (which makes looking at this list now, quite remarkable)

    But… over 2 years ago, this book saved my life.

    It is undoubtedly, direct a book, with an amazing title, one I needed to hear.

    It showed me that there were reasons why I reacted in the way I did.

    I read it at a time to try and understand why I struggled with conflict. What I discovered was a whole lot more.

    It showed me that how ever hard I had tried, it didnt matter.

    It enabled me to see myself. It also helped me to assess how I had been treated.

    And that it wasnt my fault.

    The book has exercises (rate your parents self-absorbed nature), and gives different types of self absorption, as well as then describing the principle ways of responding (fight/flight/freeze) and offering alternatives.

    In way some of those details did and didnt matter.

    I think though the reason that this book saved me, what what it meant, for me. It meant that I wasnt alone.

    It meant that I could be healed

    It meant that I didnt have to carry a burden I had unnecessarily carried

    It meant that a journey of healing had began.

    Maybe the book that saved your life might be a different one. It’s likely to be. Maybe the first self-awareness book you read in the recovery from abuse might evoke the same feelings for you. Not only do I thank the book for what it did, but also thank the person who saw my situation and recognised the patterns and traits, and gave me the book to read.

    ‘Children of the ageing self absorbed’ by Nina Brown – The book that saved my life.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (part 16)  Putting my feelings in shutdown mode

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (part 16) Putting my feelings in shutdown mode

    Im not going to feel that now

    No, its not going to hurt me, I’m going to go rigid

    Switching off

    Numb

    I decided not to feel anything from a long time ago. It was the easiest thing at the time. It was more than that, it was a self protective thing, because of the arrows, lies, the verbal abuse and emotional reactions of the psychopath in my life.

    Did I train myself not to feel?

    Possibly

    I shut down all type of feelings or emotions My life is better that way
    or so I thought…

    I cant remember how or when I started to dissociate from my body. From my feelings. From listening to my heart.

    Probably from a time when it was unsafe to. Probably from a time when the needs it expressed as a toddler or child did not get responded to, or was scalded for.

    I didn’t know that it was known as ‘dissociation’ I just thought I was being clever, I was just doing what I needed to do to survive, I was just doing what I needed to to not be as hurt by the emotional abuse.

    What I do remember is the strength of my mind one time. On an early morning paper round late one winter/march time, I forgot my gloves, and I usually wore 2-3 pairs, it was the cold and wind chill on a bike… So, I remember thinking to myself that temperature was ‘all in the mind’ – and so, for the next 2 hours, cycling, folding and delivering newspapers I tried to focus my mind on things like warm fires, heat and sunshine, almost trying to block out to my mind the cold pain signals. To my surprise it virtually worked, until maybe the last 20 mins.

    Another time this occurred is that one piece of advice for cycling further is to listen to music, as it stops pain signals getting to the brain.

    The problem with both. Is that in the immediacy afterwards, I realised that my fingers were cold, in the hot shower afterwards… and also that my body after a 100 mile cycle could only endure so much blocking of the pain…

    Interesting.

    My body could only withstand so much of the blocking of the pain, when it was about the cold, or exercise..

    At the same time as blocking the cold on a paper round, I had been blocking the emotional reactions of the parent. I have done ever since. Just because im 43 and not 13 doesn’t mean to say that dissociation doesn’t occur even now, but it did last time 2 years ago.

    My mind took over, and knew it had a heart to protect, and my body went into a kind of dissociated paralysis in her presence. No you don’t get me to hug you back. You don’t get the me you damaged.

    What I also know I did was shut down my inner world, a world I am now discovering, but that’s for another piece.

    Dissociation is when you psychologically separate yourself from yourself. It can make you freeze up or shrivel inside, or even make you feel like you’re detached from your body

    Lindsay C Gibson, 2019 Recovering from Emotionally immature Parents

    Gibson goes on to say that dissociation is a ‘natural defence’ and can be any form of distancing from your conscious experience of yourself , being a primitive type of emotional escape and common defence against threat or danger, especially for children in an unsafe environment.

    There are costs to this reaction. But at the time its like coping with no gloves on a freezing cold day, its numbing the possibility of pain, and the pain itself.

    Its the proverbial deer in the headlights. The freeze.

    But in the moment it causes passivity. (The deer isn’t thinking much either)

    Recovering from this is to reclaim the action and power in the space- not to freeze, to ‘hang in there’ – and this is something I am working through. But for now, this is about recognising that surviving psychopathic parenting was a feat of natural strength, a natural shut off.

    Because

    When children discover how self-disconnect takes away pain, they use it for increasingly minor threats. After a while they can become strangers to their own inner experience, instead of just cutting themselves off from fear or hurt, all emotion gets so dulled that life itself feels a little unreal.

    Gibson, 2019, pp79.

    Yes.

    This.

    Living in my head, pretending, keeping the emotions at bay.

    In survival mode because of dissociation.

    Most, if not all of my childhood, and a lot of my adulthood to date so far.

    Discovering only recently through therapy what I feel – because I just dont or didnt know.

    Shut that bit off like headphones on a bike ride.

    Did everything to suppress the emotion.

    The body keeps the score though.

    Childhood Emotional Neglect: How It Can Impact You Now and Later

    Feeling shame, go numb

    Protect myself , freeze.

    Survival meant putting up the shield. One that doesn’t stop arrows, but tried to stop them going deep.

    Thank you for reading, links are above or to the right of the resources, the previous parts to my story, and also how you can support me, via the KO-FI site. Thank you

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 15):  Learning to walk small.

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 15): Learning to walk small.

    The only way to survive navigating walking on eggshells with an abusive parent, or partner, is to make yourself as small as possible.

    In that way less of you can get cut on the sharp shells.

    Theres sometimes at least a few places to be able to walk safely.

    Sometimes.

    Scrapes and Cuts

    When they bark instructions on the phone, at least its not to you

    When other people are around the house, if they’re mistreating them, with often toxic food and emotionally awful conversation, in that space you are safe, even if their false charm is that…false. They daren’t look like they’re a bad person.

    ‘Look at James, here’s my boy… ‘

    Cringe time. But at least it was safe.

    Surviving as a child, and a victim, meant working out when the safe places were, and being small the rest of the time.

    Small.

    ‘The Ballantyne men, are all so quiet’ She would say.

    ‘Its as if no one wants to talk’ she would say

    Staying small.

    Behaving, most of the time.

    Being the internaliser who didnt express needs – for the fear of being accused of being selfish

    But small, in that not being able to be me.

    Small in trying to be the person who was seeking anything, affirmation, validity, a voice.

    Small in that it was a place not to speak.

    Small in that it was a place to hide

    Small in that it was a place to only try and stay within what was safe

    Small in that it was a place to keep trying to get affirmation and recognition, by trying to please, trying to do the thing I thought they wanted.

    Small and survive was not to deliberately touch the eggshells, or ride the sore feet.

    Small meant inhibiting myself, because who can grow in a concentration camp? A literal concentration camp when you have to be on vigilance guard all the time.

    A concentration camp when the trapped had to soothe and pacify the enactors of punishment.

    Small, hiding away.

    Dont make a noise, dont be disruptive, dont make a mess…

    And yet, they make themselves feel like they’re just normal, so to justify it ‘ we’re just like other parents’ ‘its what parents do’

    Surviving meant staying small. Inhibiting. Hiding. Pretending.

    Small in so many ways.

    Giving space away. People pleasing. Codependant. All things I became and am reflecting through.

    Staying small, meant not being heard, taken seriously or be healthily supported nurtured.

    Its hard to walk when your feet are small, and ravished by eggshell cuts.

    Walking small meant having to think ahead, constant. Fear.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 14): Hiding the Treasure

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 14): Hiding the Treasure

    It wasn’t just the anger switch that I had turn off as a child.

    It was the happy joy one too.

    Its my job to bring you down to earth

    That Parent

    It was easier to hide that go through having to hear things like the following

    I need some of your joy, give me some of your joy

    So I didn’t bother.

    I didnt want the photo shoot when I won trophies at school. One because I couldn’t find the photographer, the other because it wouldn’t have been celebrated appropriately. Though the trophies did stay on the mantle piece for a bit too long.

    Fast forward to a graduation 11 years later and their presence caused me to only be on vigilance trauma mode, rather than celebrate. But they had to be there, it was their right. Apparently.

    They didnt know how to affirm or celebrate what I did well, or were envious of the good time I might have had without them. Envy when I did well, Envy when things were going well. Their claim on my success was the trophy child.

    But we knew it. One parent had to have the last word on the other parents birthday. Even making sure at his birthday party, they sang to her too.

    Surviving meant switching off the positives, as well as the negatives.

    Dont raise your hopes up James, even if you think she might be pleased for you, if you are happy, it’ll be tainted with something referring to her ego.

    Some emotionally immature parents actually envy their Childs success and social attention. Instead of being happy for their child, envious parents are ore likely to discount and minimalist their Childs abilities and achievements. These parents lack the maturity to vicariously enjoy other persons good fortune. In their competitive approach to life, a successful offspring threatens their spotlight

    Gibson, Lindsey C, 2019 Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents

    It was easy after a while though. From about aged 14 I only fed them the essentials. What they needed to know.

    Surviving meant finding other people to celebrate with or not bothering.

    Hiding.

    It meant closing up the feelings. Protecting myself from the inevitable dead end type comments, the cut de sacs of emotional eggshells.

    When I knew that it would only be met with a self referential comment, or belittling, or comparing (to herself) , or something that seemed very false (praise), then they didn’t get the good news either.

    What she wanted to take from anything, everything I did.

    Over emotional if I did something wrong, Belittling or killjoy if something went well, or would want to take from it for herself.

    Maybe I did the text book thing, given that:

    Under these conditions, children of envious or jealous parents might learn its better to hide their talents or stay out of the spotlight so as not to tempt a put down from a competitive parent. Due to their parents envy and jealousy, success can be an ambivalent issue for these adult children

    Gibson, 2019, pp52

    Surviving Psychopathic parenting meant shutting down the good stuff too, knowing that it would be taken and used to meet her needs, or reveal her needs. Then I would feel guilty for being successful, or respond to that neediness.

    I wouldn’t say they were overly competitive, or maybe I didnt see it, but parasitic yes.

    Ultimately they only saw themselves, so it was easier to try not to be seen.

    But on other occasions it was just that knowing that having a smile on my face after being somewhere, or with someone, or doing something I enjoyed was about to be shot down. So there was no conversation.

    And equally, if she found out, they’d be trouble too. Or ‘He never tells us anything’ – as if theres no awareness of why they wouldn’t have been told.

    It meant learning to hide. Hide the treasure of the good parts of my life.

    Protect myself, and protect the memories, and protect those good bits.

    Thank you for reading, do like and share with others who you think might find this blog or the website helpful, parts 1-13 of my story are in the menu above.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 11): Being the Trophy child

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 11): Being the Trophy child

    Theres a weird dynamic that I had to wrestle with in talking about all of this stuff. Its knowing that as I grew up as the older child of the psychopath parents, I was the trophy child. So, when talking about what I needed to do to survive as a child, and adult, I am aware that the scapegoat child, my younger sister, got it far worse. I know that, she knows that, we talk, we’re doing ok, better than we have ever done.

    In my head I know that as I was lied to, we were both lied to. As I was subject to emotional abuse, so was she. Its weird, as in a way having an awareness that ‘someone else’ had it worse, can make it feel like I dont have as much to tell, or that the abuse I suffered wasn’t as much..

    At least you didnt have it as bad as your sister

    And while this is more than likely true. In fact it is definitely true.

    My story is that even as the so called trophy child I was subject to emotional abuse. It didnt alleviate any of it. It was different.

    The fact they said they treated us both the same, is true, neither of us received any emotional nurturing, both of received fair doses of fear, guilt, and plenty of opportunities to walk on eggshells around the emotional scatter gun that was the psychopath parent.

    We were both alone, growing up, thats how they played us.

    Being the trophy child, as I recollected to my therapist, was like doing all the work, with no pay.

    Cartoon Trophy Images, Stock Photos & Vectors | Shutterstock

    Massive high expectations.

    Always counted on to do the right thing.

    I learned to ignore what I wanted to do, at times, because surviving meant staying as the trophy child.

    Intense guilt, or projected fear about ‘letting them down’ or knowing that I was near to eggshells territory if I did.

    As the trophy child, I had the ‘opportunity’ for me to fulfil the parts of them they lacked.

    The opportunity that they would ‘take’ the glory for whatever it was that I might have done. Receiving what they felt that they were entitled to receive, not what they actually did to support and encourage. It was all work that I did alone.

    Being the trophy child is like all work and no pay. And I dont mean in monetary terms, though that would be another story, the manipulative gifts.

    Being the trophy child did mean that I escaped some of the more damaging abuse. I so get that. Thats why’s I am at times conflicted sharing my story.

    Because I was relatively self directed, competent and didnt need them, (the internaliser) , I was relatively low maintenance, especially as I was compliant and generally behaved.

    Not that this was ever noticed. Because, part of my parents nature, especially as victims in the Darvo cycle, is to regurgitate tales of how difficult I was, how awkward I was, how much stress I gave them, especially the times when I didnt actually do the things they wanted me to do.

    Part of surviving psychopathic parenting is that I developed the ‘role self’ from the parents, in which I was able to navigate through it, knowing that it wasn’t really truly me, and also that its very difficult to see it at the time.

    Surviving psychopathic parenting is knowing that these people who call themselves your parents are never going to see you. It’s just not in their nature, and what they do see, they want to take it for themselves. So, as the trophy child it was all about having ‘hope and expectation’ placed on me, so that I would be the bearer of their happiness and joy.

    Obvious favouritism isnt a sign of close relationship, its a sign of enmeshment

    Gibson, Lindsay C, 2016

    What I know now is that none of that would have mattered. I could have got a Phd at Cambridge at aged 26 and that would not have made a single difference. Because emotionally unhealthy, psychopathic parents can not actually be happy. Because then the world can stop revolving around them, there is a chink in their armour.

    I probably haven’t covered all of what its like being the trophy child to psychopathic parents. More will come I am sure.

    Just because you’re the trophy child, it just meant that the emotional abuse was different. It wasn’t more or less, after all it isn’t a competition. Psychopathic abuse is just directed differently.

    In idealised enmeshment, the parent indulges a favourite child as though that child is more important and deserving than other kids. However this traps the idealised favourite child in an ironclad role, so that child isnt experiencing an true emotional intimacy either

    Gibson, 2016

    Whats interesting about this is that though this sounds like the idealised child is actually spoilt. In my case, they did everything but, and went out of their way not to. As I said, all work and no pay. I survived, my story, is about surviving alone, and digging deep into my own, emotional, physical, intellectual resources. That was the only way to survive.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 10); Navigating the other parent, the flying monkey.

    But you do have another parent, couldn’t you talk to them?

    Your other parent, they’re so nice, they’d do anything for anyone

    Only one of the above is true.

    Theres a reason why you feel completely alone when one of your parents is a psychopath.

    You realise that you cannot trust the other one.

    Even if you are allowed to be anywhere near them.

    You discover that they can’t be trusted.

    I did, though I cannot remember exactly when.

    In the name of marital loyalty they tell everything to the psychopathic one.

    They are on the same eggshells. Afraid to keep secrets.

    They are passive.

    They are controlled.

    They do the work of the psychopath for them.

    They are their flying monkey.

    They have no choice but to believe them.

    You know they wouldn’t believe you. They cant protect you , the child.

    Mine didnt, couldn’t, wasn’t going to.

    They are also abused themselves, but they dont know it. Wouldn’t want to know it.

    Surviving psychopathic parenting is about Surviving alone.

    The one psychopath can divide a whole family, a whole community, thats how dangerous one of them is (Erikson, 2019) It only takes one.

    The other parent elicits sympathy from others, your poor father, as they take on meeting others needs like a codependant. They take on befriending and soothing others, for the psychopathic one to manipulate later. They dont realise it, but thats how the pattern works.

    Maybe if you had emotionally abusive parents it was different for you?

    One of mine was abused by the other, passive, and then offered no protection from her.

    The other was a psychopath.

    The ‘Other’ was played, believed the victim lies, span a tale too.

    You dont have either parent, if one of them is a psychopath. Even if mine appeared generally friendly, sometimes playful, even spending a bit of time as a child with them making train sets.

    Ultimately though, they are just a shell. A tool. Being used as the flying monkey to elicit information to the other one.

    Its why the only way is to survive alone.

    You cant trust anyone.

    Until you can find people you can trust in.

    People who have boundaries. People who protect.

    I didnt have the ‘other’ parent. There was no such thing.

    Its like growing up with secondary eggshells. You know what you say goes back. You know they are sent in to discover information.

    You know you’re likely to be given the guilt trip that ‘they might miss out’ and they do.

    They have made that choice.

    Surviving Psychopathic parenting, and psychopaths and abusive people , is to see and realise the patterns of the flying monkeys.

    The other parent, the psychopaths flying monkey.

    Thank you for reading this, part 10 of my story, do read the other parts in the menu above, and also there are resources in the other menu too.

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 9): Pretending and Hiding

    Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 9): Pretending and Hiding

    One of the ways of surviving emotionally immature parenting, in fact possibly the only way is to pretend.

    Because, unless you fit into the role they have for you, you are in trouble. So, even if you don’t want to do something, you have to pretend, you have to lie to yourself.

    And every time you do, your real self disappears just a little bit more.

    So what was pretending like.

    Pretending was putting on fake smiles in photos when the dreaded camera was used. Then awaiting the inevitable punishment for ruining the photo, especially if ‘the slide show’ was when they were revealed 6 weeks later, with house guests.

    Pretending to respond with the right words, even if in saying them I knew they weren’t real.

    When walking on emotional eggshells, the best way of surviving is staying calm. So pretending meant not being emotional, pretending meant going with the flow to keep the peace..when dying inside..trapped.

    In was always aware that it felt like ‘other people’ felt things – but I didnt.

    What I know now, is that I survived by not being me. Not being my core self. Nothing in my body or mind was going to let that be exposed.

    So I pretended. Disconnected from what was real.

    Its not just the psychopaths and narcissists who put on an act.

    The survivors do to survive. To protect their heart. Protect themselves.

    The weird thing is that looking back, my abusers didnt care about me being real, they were happy with me going through the motions, pretending.

    I know I wasn’t good at pretending.

    But it was what I had to do to survive.

    Once children discover how self-disconnection takes away pain, they can use it for increasingly minor threats

    (Lindsay C Gibson, 2019)

    The healing part, is learning to reconnect with the parts of me I disconnected from. But thats for my healing journey..another time..

    Thank you for reading, if you would like to read parts 1-8, they are in the menu above. There are resources in the menu and links to the books that have helped me.

    Thank you again