No matter how much organic produce you buy or exciting names you invent for vegetables, there are some things your child will not eat… although this long list is cut in half if you drown them in ketchup.
An adopted child has already lost one mother. (S)he will most likely make a greater effort to diminish her own sense of self, and feed into the narcissist’s desires just in order to avoid being rejected by the second. It is a matter of survival.
Because it was courage that my mother showed in telling no-one for 21 years, and giving me up to strangers. For the sake of herself and for the sake of her family she did the hardest thing anyone can ask of a mother. Because even as her daughter, I was not part of their family and in the 1970s could never be a legitimate part of it.
One of the biggest dangers of growing up with a narcissistic mother, is that you will believe that the relationship you have with her is a loving and rewarding one. And even if you don’t it’s the original relationship which created your idea of what a relationship should look like. Which means that one day soon, you’ll be going out with a narcissist yourself.
The Ugly Duckling is about a cygnet who feels abused and isolated from his adopted Duck family. He eventually has a happy reunion as a transformed swan with his ‘natural’ Swan family. As an adoptee, when I read this story, it wasn’t the pain of the abuse or the despair of the outcast ‘duckling’ that resonated with me. It was the confusion he felt at believing for his whole life he was a duck, when in actual fact he was a swan. How do you know who you are?
My family was not one I was born to, it was one I made and continue to make on a daily basis. My family is a group of people who I trust and whose support I use to empower myself to grow in this world. I have relatives of course, but they are not who I consider my family.
Secrecy was the best choice. But being adopted whilst outwardly respectable, was only another word for disgraced bastard. And everyone knew it, even if they didn’t say it.
For those adoptees who lose their mother before the separation of the self occurs at around 2-3 years old, they will manifest a primal wound. A deep and lasting impact.
Worse still, it is a impact which is unacknowledged buried deep in the subconscious and thus remains unhealed…
I have no doubt that this is a direct consequence of my being relinquished by my biological mother, and subsequent adoption by my narcissist mother. It’s a modus operandi which has worked really well for me in the past. But now, it may be starting to cause a problem for me (and not just others). Indeed until now, I didn’t realise that it was actually a problem for others, I just assumed that they felt the same way as I did. That I didn’t really exist for them, if I wasn’t there.
It takes a steel heart to stand up to that amount of pressure from people you care about, even if you believe in vaccines.
Two people trying to fill the holes in each others lives. She was full of love. Almost bursting in fact. And yet because she wasn’t my mother, I could not take it from her without heavy doses of suspicion.
Many people don’t think it through before they have kids. Indeed such a level of forethought is not possible. And besides, having kids is something you do usually as a matter of course in our society. Its part of the relationship escalator.
I’ve asked other mothers. Just a few though. Because it’s not a topic that you can bring up with those who aren’t close to you. I’ve particularly asked those who like me, had a daughter first and then a son. Just to test out whether the way I love my children has to do with my first time mother anxiety. I ask them ~
Do you love your children differently?
Usually what people hear when I say that is “do you love one more than the other?”
Few would answer yes. Society forbids it.
You will feel guilty for boring people and turning into the really really dull person you swore you wouldn’t be before you had kids.
I met my biological father when I was 20. An adoptee, desperately seeking the face for an identity she had yet to form. Our meeting was hidden from my adoptive parents and facilitated by my biological mother who had yet to realize the reality of the man who was my father. The man who would become my rapist. And as …