My Mother Is a Covert or Vulnerable Narcissist
In which Teófilo assembles a profile of his mother after the passing of his grandmother.
In each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each of us our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there is a lot of grey to work with. No one can live in the light all the time.
— Libba Bray
Not everything was bad…
I’ve been having a long internal debate about how to tackle the issue I’ve raised myself. My Mother is a vulnerable narcissist. I recognize this is a grave assertion and a serious diagnosis. As you might recall, being a shattered person is my best qualification to make this judgment. In her I recognize a fellow “shatter-ee.”
You would be justified in thinking I hold a declared bias against her since she was the one who shattered me. Yes, mea culpa. I acknowledge my bias. In fact, there’s a reason why mental health caregivers shouldn't work with their closest relatives. That’s because close-quarter familiarity leads to bias and failed diagnoses.
Now, in my storytelling, repeating instances of her abusive personality might be misleading. The story I’m sharing with you is not how the good me overcame the evil she. It's not how I’ve lived in eternal happiness ever since my “triumph.” It’s not that simple.
We had moments of easy normality in which Mom and I shared joys in a normal fashion. Sometimes we even held a friendship and laughed ourselves to tears because of the things we saw and said to each other. There were times in which we stood for each other in solidarity. Those were good moments. I still treasure those moments.
I also want to state I’m not judging Mom in the sense that matters most to every human being. I can’t say Mom is God’s reject, that she’s unredeemable and hell-bound. I’m convinced that our Father has built-in advantages to His love in our very nature that evil cannot touch.
Because at various times in her life she has received the Body and Blood of Our Lord, God has the advantage. I know His promise that everyone partaking of the Eucharist will have eternal life (John 6:58). God has the advantage in Mom’s struggle against evil because of her partaking of Jesus in the Eucharist. How many times she has done so throughout her life or how long ago is immaterial. God still has the advantage. I pray for her every day and hope to see her one day in the Kingdom.
I am thankful she gave me the gift of life and in her own way, within her limitations, she did a lot of good. I find myself standing on the same ground as it pertains to my own children. We deal with the parents God gave us. We learn positive and negative lessons from them and try to avoid the same pitfalls with one’s own children. I can’t say I got it right all the time, especially on those times that I “channeled” Mom over and against them. But I understand my struggle and had embraced it for my own moral and spiritual betterment.
…but bad things increased over time.
Judging her character and actions became a top priority early on in my own life. As I began to pursue virtue, I had to make my own decisions separate from her. Mom often didn’t tell me the truth. Mom often gaslighted me. Mom loved to seek the moral high ground by putting others down. She tied me into knots as I tried to maintain loving relationships with others she had chosen to hate.
It is important to me to write about these things because they happened. Mom has endeavored to challenge, change, and deny my memories. As a son I felt the duty to believe her always. But charity, reason, and common decency always pushed me in the opposite direction. The clash between the two opposing claims have been a source of great suffering and distress for me in my life.
It’s not my purpose either to strike back at her by writing this personality sketch. I know that the chance for her to read this essay in translation is next to nil. I don’t right this to get the last word. I write it for personal catharsis and to increase my understanding of Mom. It’s only in this way I can be able to feel compassion toward her. Doing so is one of the many ways I must work out my salvation in fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12). I must love Mom and I do love her. I must if I am to enter the Kingdom.
Mom’s Personality Sketch
It's better I share with you a general sketch of her personality than stopping at every one of her faults. The sketch will illustrate the constant conflict that permeated my life until I left her side at age 19. Later, I will address only specific bad moments when these overwhelmed and changed me. I'll speak to those at the time they took place in my life as the narrative progresses.
It is my lay opinion that Mom is a vulnerable narcissist. Vulnerability qualifies her narcissism, as one opposed to grandiose narcissism. Both kinds of narcissism have common characteristics. They do differ in the way they manifest themselves.
Grandiose narcissists are extroverts, self-confident, attention seekers, and aggressive (Source). An exemplar of this kind of narcissism is former president Donald Trump. In my lay opinion, Trump breaks the measure of what is to be a grandiose narcissist.
Vulnerable narcissists are introverts. They display high sensitivity and negative emotions. They also show a need for constant recognition and reassurance (Source). If you want to picture one, actress Joan Crawford of Mommy Dearest fame fits the bill. I found the way she treated her children as depicted in the movie eerily familiar.
Common to both forms of narcissistic personality disorder is self-enhancement. That's the belief the narcissist holds that their thoughts and actions are exceptional. The way they comprehend things sets them apart from others, they believe (Source).
The figure below describes many behaviors Mom has displayed during her life.
Regarding the graphic above, for fairness' sake, I must say she did ask me how I am doing when we talked. Yet, her interest didn’t last long before she was back focusing on herself. Nor has she ever hung up on me and then called back. But she did direct a close friend to shoot prank calls against Mercie and I a couple of times. The other signs are accurate descriptions of her, as they stand. I’m also sad to say that the list in the above figure isn’t exhaustive. Oh yes, there’s more.
Mom never sought medical help. She would’ve gained a lot from it, but as it is typical of narcissists, she insists there’s nothing wrong with her. She’s not shy in telling me to get counseling for this or that or the other. But she’ll never recognize her own dire needs. In fact, such recognition needs to flow from deep, critical introspection. This is something she’s incapable of doing. In fact, Mom would deflate if she were to acknowledge any personality disorder in herself. Such a recognition would undermine her worldview and sense of self-worth. She would never agree to psychological counseling, ever.
This is the type of Mother I had to contend with as I grew up. To say that being raised by Mom has harmed my own developing character and values would be an understatement. I was a broken mess until I began living a life of Catholic faith. Jesus saved me not only from hell, but also from myself. It has taken a long time to rebuild myself and my character since breaking with her worldview. In some ways it’s still in progress. I’ll talk about those effects in the next installment.
She was jealous of most things that I achieved or if I went anywhere her reaction was always, “ you didn’t ask me, or you never ask me to go anywhere, or all the other mothers I know - their kids always take them places with them”. I was never good enough, she always found fault with me: too fat, too forgetful, a liar, a sneak, etc. she was rarely happy - really. She would complain to my cousins, aunts, friends of the things I did that she didn’t like. She always, always reminded me of everything she ever did for me or gave me - or my kids. She alienated all her sisters & brothers also, by being with them as she was with me. She was jealous of my love for my father, whom she didn’t like one little bit. I could go on, but that’s enough. I’m in my 70’s and I’m still looking for affirmation from others as I did with my mother. But...... I’ve also worked on myself thru A.A. And a psychologist for years. I’m sad that she was so sad all her life