I go through phases of intense interest in and observation of the people around me. These days, it's a deviation from normal action for me. Typically, no matter the group I'm in, I am the de facto greeter, rememberer of names, conversation starter and overall general participater. I wouldn't say that I seek the spotlight, and I'm not a compulsive joiner, but I've worked very hard for a long time to be able to enjoy whatever the present moment that I'm living in happens to be, and I'm interested in being a part of those moments. In business meetings, as a result of that desire for sincerity and authenticity, when everyone else is Chest Puffing or doing the Big Boy and Girl Dance of Uber-Professional Talk, I'm often the only person asking questions of others like, "How's your family? Your daughter must be in junior high school by now, right? How's that going?" In other words, I talk about life, and that always lightens the mood.
But lately I've been in a more subdued mood, probably because I'm still very physically tired and because it's February. Gawd, I hate this month. Gray, cold, holidays spent, taxes almost due, let's just hope that Spring gets here before June, February. DH calls it my Speculative Mood; I have a tendency to isolate a feeling, thought, pattern of behavior and just track it, watch it, ponder it. I learn a lot about people through this process.
I was recently at a meeting with a large group of coworkers, both those that I share office space with and several from other parts of my geographical region. There is a young lady from another office who is, er, um, well, she's rather off-putting. She's difficult to talk to. She gives very little in conversation; her primary contributions seem to involve making sure that all listening understand that she's, of course, right and oh so very smart. About everything. It's not malicious, it's more of a low self-esteem projection that comes off as, okay, well, maybe more than a little bitchy. A conversation with her can feel like a midnight stroll through a sanctimony-ridden land-mine field.
Having survived a lifetime in the B-I-N-G-O spinning ball of twisted conversation and pretentious aggrandizing that was my NFOO, I just shake it off. She's not central to my continued existence - not my boss, in other words - and I have only the most tenuous of ties to her, so I just let her be right when I find myself in conversation with her, which I noticed at this last outing was quite often. She chose at several different venues to seek out a seat next to me. When she gets all Sister Mary Francis on the soapbox, I just listen until I'm bored and then I make a joke. Most of the serious wanna-be professor types don't particularly care for my blase take on life in general, and tend to gravitate away from me rather quickly. To which I say, Coolsville Daddio, you go on over there and extol the virtues of contract negotiations and quality assurance systems and I'll be over here enjoying my tea and taking mental bets against myself about which of the coworkers is going to try to hit on the waitress. But this girl still seeks me out, after four years of contact in which I've maintained my same attitude, which when concerning business often can be summed up with a shoulder shrug and a, "Well-what-are-you-gonna-do-that's-life." or "Well-they-keep-paying-me-so-I-keep-showing-up." That one really stumps the suits and the ladder climbers.
So, later on, I had a conversation with one of my coworkers whom I actually consider a good friend and she, too, had noticed the way that Ms. Difficult follows me around. "I just don't understand why she likes me so much," I said. "I'm not particularly nice to her, but she seems to really want to be around me, I don't get it." This caused my friend to laugh, which threw me for a loop. "What's so funny?" I asked.
To which she replied, "Vanci, everybody likes you. You're the only one that everybody likes. You're like everybody's best friend. You're the only one who cares about everybody else. You're the only real person in the room!" Huh.
So let me get this straight. Everybody else is acting? I'm the only one capable of or willing to be real, to be present? How sad! All I can think is that there is so much, so much of value, going on in every moment - I feel like I learn something from every single interaction that I have with individuals or the world at large. How can anyone not be interested in that?
I think that it's a gift to be able to live in the moment, to be present. I know that I have a lot more fun at those meetings than anyone else does. Apparently that's because I'm the only one really there!
I spent so much of my childhood, adolescence and early adulthood afraid, just terrified of what horror was lurking around the next corner. I was always planning, and drawing up alternate plans, and making contingency plans. Hypervigilance is a fear based, trauma induced defense mechanism, and that's where I lived for so long, just trying to keep everything under wraps, the hatches battened down, the details routinely organized, everything and everyone under control.
I don't have to do that anymore, and there's such freedom for me in just being able to - forgive the overused phrase - stop and smell the roses. I'm so grateful that I can just be present in my life these days.
So, a Vanci-ku for you, in honor of the joy of living in the moment:
Fears of the future
Rob you of today's moments
Why steal from yourself?
Love,
Vanci
Showing posts with label authenticity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label authenticity. Show all posts
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Self-Worth and Conflict
I took a (thankfully rare) business trip last week to spend two days in the excellent company of the other twelve people within my state who hold the same job position that I do. It was uplifting to be with my peers even if the disruption of my schedule and day-to-day life was exhausting to recover from. I've been ruminating in some of what I learned of myself, and thought I'd share some conclusions I've come to regarding fear of conflict and how it relates to a strong sense of self-worth.
I have an interesting job in that I have a lot of power to make things happen. I am the face and voice of my company to all the clients within our portfolio, and I am almost solely responsible for the 'customer experience,' (and I'm captioning that because I just hate corporate buzz words and phrases.) My actions, largely, dictate our clients' continued happiness. Additionally, I function in a role that places within my hands the ability to move almost all transactions forward, to make things happen for others, while posting credit for a job well done in the name of others; those that I assist. I knew this going into my job and I actually chose the job partly because of this. I don't feel slighted and I don't miss the recognition. I enjoy the anonymity that I am allowed to function successfully within.
These same parameters are true for all of my counterparts, and the job therefore tends to attract a certain type of personality to it. We are largely nurturers; willing to work hard and toil to complete tasks from the realm of mindless to head-ache inducingly complex while claiming no credit for the job when it's done. We are behind the scenes people. We are self-motivated. We are intuitive. We are open to change and criticism and we are always looking for more efficient ways to accomplish our tasks. We're untitled and unsung movers and shakers, at least in my mind.
Interestingly, I discovered an area of personality where I am very different from my peers, though. When it comes to conflict of any kind, most of these folks are very, very shy. They are a positive group, always looking for that silver lining, but when they are directly confronted with anything other than the most passive tone imaginable, they quickly fold, cave, give in. Often, there are tears. I was shocked by this to an extent, until I remembered that I used to be like this too.
Frankly, now, daily, I am a bad-ass. I take no shit from anyone unless it's my previously dished shit being thrown back at me and I know I started it. At one point in the meeting, several of my peers were discussing a particular external partner that we all work with and how difficult he was to get along with. I'll call him Jerk. Their collective way of problem solving around this individual's attitude problem was to... find another partner to work with and not tell the Jerk they were doing so. I couldn't believe that this was their best plan, and asked why no one had just stood up to Jerk. I was asked if he was a jerk to me. My answer,
"Listen, the guy's a Jerk. So, one day he called me and needed something and he was being a jerk, so I said, 'Hey! Jerk! You're talking to me ALL wrong for someone who needs a favor!" And he backed down. He's been pleasant and respectful ever since. Amazing what happens when you burst the bubble, isn't it?
I am not grateful for the defense mechanisms and personality guards that I have to keep in place due to my NFOO. As much as I would like to say I'm grateful for these necessities, that would be a lie. I'm grateful I learned how to protect myself, sure, but I'd rather that I was never wounded so deeply that I needed them. Still, they are of use. I've faced down bigger demons in my day than any that my co-workers can possibly throw at me. Jerk's got nothing on them! And I think that this is a key to my self-worth and lack of fear of conflict.
I am Vanci. I know who I am and I'm comfortable in my skin almost all of the time. When I am uncomfortable, I know that this is just a clue that I have something I'm not dealing with and I take proper steps to rectify it. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that anyone can say or do in the course of the day that can change who I am. I embrace me. If others don't, no harm no foul. I don't have to be loved by everyone. And I don't have to love everyone else. I can be civil, when civility is called for and I live in the knowledge that what other people think of me is truly none of my business.
However, I am not passive, particularly when it comes to others' treatment of me. I understand that everyone has a different approach to communication within business, and I try to be open to other people's ways and means. Still, I am a human being, and most of the time a very good one. I deserve to be treated as such. I am not a doormat and I never will be again. If this creates conflict, so be it. Conflict creates opportunity for growth.
I can trace this self-assuredness directly to my upbringing and my life as an ACoN. I was treated like shit, and I was treated like shit for no damn good reason. There's nothing I can do to change that, but as an adult I've grown and I've taken a really hard look at myself. What have I learned? That I deserve not to be treated like shit. Therefore (and this is the uber-practical part of my that just insists on turning every scenario into an equation: 1+1=2, always) I will not allow myself to be treated like shit, and if somebody's got a problem with that boundary, well, step on into the ring and let's go a few rounds.
I'm glad for the confidence and lack of fear that this evolved attitude allows me. I get to be me, and that's apparently more than some people allow themselves. I'll take it.
You got a problem with that? :)
Love,
Vanci
I have an interesting job in that I have a lot of power to make things happen. I am the face and voice of my company to all the clients within our portfolio, and I am almost solely responsible for the 'customer experience,' (and I'm captioning that because I just hate corporate buzz words and phrases.) My actions, largely, dictate our clients' continued happiness. Additionally, I function in a role that places within my hands the ability to move almost all transactions forward, to make things happen for others, while posting credit for a job well done in the name of others; those that I assist. I knew this going into my job and I actually chose the job partly because of this. I don't feel slighted and I don't miss the recognition. I enjoy the anonymity that I am allowed to function successfully within.
These same parameters are true for all of my counterparts, and the job therefore tends to attract a certain type of personality to it. We are largely nurturers; willing to work hard and toil to complete tasks from the realm of mindless to head-ache inducingly complex while claiming no credit for the job when it's done. We are behind the scenes people. We are self-motivated. We are intuitive. We are open to change and criticism and we are always looking for more efficient ways to accomplish our tasks. We're untitled and unsung movers and shakers, at least in my mind.
Interestingly, I discovered an area of personality where I am very different from my peers, though. When it comes to conflict of any kind, most of these folks are very, very shy. They are a positive group, always looking for that silver lining, but when they are directly confronted with anything other than the most passive tone imaginable, they quickly fold, cave, give in. Often, there are tears. I was shocked by this to an extent, until I remembered that I used to be like this too.
Frankly, now, daily, I am a bad-ass. I take no shit from anyone unless it's my previously dished shit being thrown back at me and I know I started it. At one point in the meeting, several of my peers were discussing a particular external partner that we all work with and how difficult he was to get along with. I'll call him Jerk. Their collective way of problem solving around this individual's attitude problem was to... find another partner to work with and not tell the Jerk they were doing so. I couldn't believe that this was their best plan, and asked why no one had just stood up to Jerk. I was asked if he was a jerk to me. My answer,
"Listen, the guy's a Jerk. So, one day he called me and needed something and he was being a jerk, so I said, 'Hey! Jerk! You're talking to me ALL wrong for someone who needs a favor!" And he backed down. He's been pleasant and respectful ever since. Amazing what happens when you burst the bubble, isn't it?
I am not grateful for the defense mechanisms and personality guards that I have to keep in place due to my NFOO. As much as I would like to say I'm grateful for these necessities, that would be a lie. I'm grateful I learned how to protect myself, sure, but I'd rather that I was never wounded so deeply that I needed them. Still, they are of use. I've faced down bigger demons in my day than any that my co-workers can possibly throw at me. Jerk's got nothing on them! And I think that this is a key to my self-worth and lack of fear of conflict.
I am Vanci. I know who I am and I'm comfortable in my skin almost all of the time. When I am uncomfortable, I know that this is just a clue that I have something I'm not dealing with and I take proper steps to rectify it. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that anyone can say or do in the course of the day that can change who I am. I embrace me. If others don't, no harm no foul. I don't have to be loved by everyone. And I don't have to love everyone else. I can be civil, when civility is called for and I live in the knowledge that what other people think of me is truly none of my business.
However, I am not passive, particularly when it comes to others' treatment of me. I understand that everyone has a different approach to communication within business, and I try to be open to other people's ways and means. Still, I am a human being, and most of the time a very good one. I deserve to be treated as such. I am not a doormat and I never will be again. If this creates conflict, so be it. Conflict creates opportunity for growth.
I can trace this self-assuredness directly to my upbringing and my life as an ACoN. I was treated like shit, and I was treated like shit for no damn good reason. There's nothing I can do to change that, but as an adult I've grown and I've taken a really hard look at myself. What have I learned? That I deserve not to be treated like shit. Therefore (and this is the uber-practical part of my that just insists on turning every scenario into an equation: 1+1=2, always) I will not allow myself to be treated like shit, and if somebody's got a problem with that boundary, well, step on into the ring and let's go a few rounds.
I'm glad for the confidence and lack of fear that this evolved attitude allows me. I get to be me, and that's apparently more than some people allow themselves. I'll take it.
You got a problem with that? :)
Love,
Vanci
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Contagious Blindness
I'm open about my struggles to the degree that it's appropriate in my everyday life. I don't go around with a giant black A for abused or a scarlet S for scapegoat stitched onto my chest, but when people ask, I tell the truth. When people tell me about their challenges and struggles in dealing with family issues, spousal issues, parenting issues, I try to engage in honest dialogue that reflects my truthful experience.
There are a couple of reasons for this. First, having been raised in the vortex of deception that my narcissistic Crazymaker parents created, and having removed myself from that particular cesspool, I value truth above all else. I want to live authentically, and I practice the principle of authenticity on a daily basis. When I screw up, I admit it. When I do well, I allow myself to be proud and to take credit. When I'm asked what I think... I say what I think. This particular trait seems to be rather rare in our world and societies, at least in all the circles that I'm familiar with. I'm not trying to be unique, I'm just trying to stay sane and I wholeheartedly subscribe to the maxim that we are as sick as our number and depth of secrets. So, I tell the truth.
Second, telling the truth helps me to keep my stories straight. I've said before - the truth doesn't have versions, it just is. Honesty, therefore, is a link to reality for me. I've found that if I am not consistently honest about what I've been through, what they did to me, how it affected me and how I'm coping, I will quickly become confused. I don't think I'm alone in this, but I'm pretty sure that this concept is difficult for anyone who wasn't raised with Narcs to understand. You see, I was indoctrinated from all sides from an early age on with the idea that the Narcs had the power to change facts, history, dates, times, events and actual true accounts of reality by simply saying it wasn't so. When they decided that the painful truths of the past or present were just not meshing with the pictures of themselves that they wanted to display on the mantle, they simply changed those truths. They made them into bastardized versions of the truth. And their versions of the truth - subject to further revision at any given time - became the New Truth!
There were (and are still, I'm sure) so many instances of this revisionism, gaslighting, stonewalling and outright lying in my life with the NFOO that it truly becomes difficult to know what the truth really is. It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack... that's piled on the back of a truck... going 70 mph down the highway... in the dark... which someone constantly removing parts of the pile and someone else constantly adding more hay to the top. Bad metaphor, I know, but, hey it's the truth. So, when I find the needle of truth in that mess, I hold onto it dearly. Because truth, reality, what really happened is so very important to me. They really can't change the truth, you know, no matter how hard they try. It just is.
But, inability to change the truth won't stop them from trying. Furthermore, it won't stop them from trying to cover it up, either. They're basically professional level liars and manipulators, and they haven't gotten away with it for their entire lives by doing it poorly. They have a system, they cover each other, it works. Unsuspecting non-Narcs who come into contact with them are easily rubed. How could they not be? The Crazymakers have justifications, rationalizations, revisions of history, explanations and misdirection on their side. EF, family lore goes, could have sold icicles to Eskimos.
Jonsi asked in the coments of my Invisibility and Dark Shadows post:
"I wonder Vanci...did anyone you ever met growing up or in your young-adulthood ever tell you that they thought your family behaved strangely or that they were abusive?"
Oh my, Jonsi! What a normal, normal question to ask! This made me laugh out loud, not at the question, certainly, but because it would have been so ludicrous if this had happened. Here's the why:
They moved us around every year for a reason. It's entirely possible to maintain a perfectly perfect projection of a facade of perfectness... for a short period of time. I don't know how much of the grand master plan of physical isolation was completely conscious on the part of NM and EF and how much was below surface, but I'm absolutely positive that they knew at some level that if we stayed anywhere too long, people would get close. And when 'outsiders' get close to a family as fucked up as ours was, they see through the veneer. Most 'normal' people, granted, would turn a blind eye (and of the few who did get close to us in one way or another, the great majority did just that,) but those who got close enough to see some of the truth behind the castle gates and might have done anything about it had very little time to act or react. They usually only began to suspect, it seems, as we were loading up the moving vans.
Even when physical isolation wasn't possible, the Crazymakers created an airtight shelter of emotional isolation. Here's a small sample.
When I was about 11 years old, I began to gain some serious weight. I know now that this was partly a subconscious attempt to make myself unattractive; having been sexually abused wreaks havoc on a girl's self image, particularly as she enters into puberty. I'd imagine I was doing some hormonally driven emotional eating too. With the small amount of safety that my newly unattractive body gave me, I started to open up a bit. I had a couple of close-ish girlfriends for the first time in my young life. I started writing. I had a teacher who took an interest in helping me into 'gifted' classes.
I started to get comfortable with myself. Oops.
I expressed my desire to slim down to NM. She put me on 'slimfast.' No kidding. Almost 12 years old, going through puberty, gaining weight to hide shame, and she put me on a fad diet that A) doesn't really work and B) truly isn't healthy for anybody, really, but especially for a growing girl. So, I became hungry, shamed by my hunger, sick to my stomach and generally ill at ease. Oddly (unless you grew up with Narcs like this,) we ate dinner out in restaurants more during this six month period than any other time that I can remember in my life with the NFOO. And at every single dinner, when the waitress would get around to asking me what I wanted, EF would say, loudly, in his best preacher-man voice, "Oh, she can't have anything! She's on Slimfast!" And then NM would say to him, "EF, don't say that! You know Vanci's sensitive about her weight/dieting!" I would get upset, of course, and my cheeks turn red when I'm ashamed. I was a glowing beacon of chubby shame sitting at a booth in public place.
So, NM would pat my hand and say, always within ear-shot of the waitiress (audience,) "Oh, don't be upset, it's not your fault, Vanci. It's my genes, you know, and so my fault that you tend toward chubby. I've had to work so hard all my life to keep the weight off..."
Unless you grew up with this, unless you've had this happen to you, well, at worst to an observer it just seems weird or it seems like these are parents who don't have a firm grasp on the finer etiquette points of social conversation. At best it appears to be the dialogue of two parents who are lovingly trying to help their overweight daughter to be healthier or fit into society better. No one thinks, "Oh, that nicely dressed married couple over there with the big smiles and the promise of a nice tip are trying to cover up that they routinely torture and humiliate at least one of their children."
They are just so damned good at the show of it all. They have layers and layers of nice painted on the outside; so many that it's really impossible to tell where one lie starts and another begins. They just seem like such nice people. There's a comment I've heard often, and it's totally true! They do seem like nice people, because they act like nice people, and they're good at this charade, because the maintenance of this farce is absolutely critical to the maintenance of the style of living and life they want to have. If they seemed rotten, they'd never be able to get away with it - if they acted on the outside like the monsters that they truly are, CPS would have taken all three of us kids away pronto.
So, unfortunately, no, dear Jonsi, no one ever said those things to me. Most outsiders weren't allowed to be close enough to see beyond the masks. Those few who did make it through weren't allowed access for very long. Of those who did glimpse the reality of the NFOO, most were treated immediately and intensely to the blindingly convincing show of Narc-y Nice Nice. I don't know of any outsider who ever infiltrated to the core, honestly.
And this is the last piece of this answer, and the reason for this post's title. They lied so well that 99% of people believed the lies. Further, they created a lose-lose for me: tell the truth and we'll destroy you, go along with the lie and we'll leave you alone, sometimes. But mostly, and this is the sad part for me, they held so much of my self-worth in their palms, that even when I was the subject of the abuse, I was willing to lie along with them to cover up their 'sins.' After all, even if I didn't believe it was totally my fault, did I really want to create a situation that would leave our family homeless? Take away EF's livelihood? Destroy my mother? Hurt my sister? Devastate my brother? So I drank the kool-aid, you know?
And then, I grew up. I had lots and lots of 'friends' and acquaintances, too, but they didn't really know me. How could they? I learned inauthenticity over my baby food jars. I, too, as the child of manipulative narcissists, can make you believe anything I want you to, should I choose. And with all those friends and acquaintances, I chose to make them believe that I was fine, just fine, can't you see how fine I am. This repression of my pain, primarily, is what led me to the bottle... the release of this repression is what started me down the road to healing.
I don't think that the outsiders we came into contact with were neccesarily stupid, though. I think they just fell victim to the sway of the Narcs, who are very good at their brand of hypnosis. At least that's what I'd like to believe; I really want to think that if there had been any adult in my life long enough to see the reality of my childhood, they'd have spoken up. I'd like to believe that if I'd been capable of being authentic with any of my friends or acquaintances in young adulthood, they would have seen the reality of the situation and come to my aid. I'd like, honestly, to believe that people are generally good at a core level.
And so, that's what I am - honest and authentic and very, very open. I hope beyond hope that my openess, my authenticity, my 100% real and true story can help someone else. And I keep my eyes peeled and my tongue at the ready because I want to be sure that I can be that voice to someone else if the opportunity arises. I want to be able to say (and I have in the past and it's helped others,) "Listen to me, please. You have a right to be treated with decency; you have a right to be treated with respect; above all, in all circumstances, you have an absolute right to defend yourself and an absolute right to safety."
Does it make a difference? To others - I hope so. To me? It makes all the difference.
Love,
Vanci
There are a couple of reasons for this. First, having been raised in the vortex of deception that my narcissistic Crazymaker parents created, and having removed myself from that particular cesspool, I value truth above all else. I want to live authentically, and I practice the principle of authenticity on a daily basis. When I screw up, I admit it. When I do well, I allow myself to be proud and to take credit. When I'm asked what I think... I say what I think. This particular trait seems to be rather rare in our world and societies, at least in all the circles that I'm familiar with. I'm not trying to be unique, I'm just trying to stay sane and I wholeheartedly subscribe to the maxim that we are as sick as our number and depth of secrets. So, I tell the truth.
Second, telling the truth helps me to keep my stories straight. I've said before - the truth doesn't have versions, it just is. Honesty, therefore, is a link to reality for me. I've found that if I am not consistently honest about what I've been through, what they did to me, how it affected me and how I'm coping, I will quickly become confused. I don't think I'm alone in this, but I'm pretty sure that this concept is difficult for anyone who wasn't raised with Narcs to understand. You see, I was indoctrinated from all sides from an early age on with the idea that the Narcs had the power to change facts, history, dates, times, events and actual true accounts of reality by simply saying it wasn't so. When they decided that the painful truths of the past or present were just not meshing with the pictures of themselves that they wanted to display on the mantle, they simply changed those truths. They made them into bastardized versions of the truth. And their versions of the truth - subject to further revision at any given time - became the New Truth!
There were (and are still, I'm sure) so many instances of this revisionism, gaslighting, stonewalling and outright lying in my life with the NFOO that it truly becomes difficult to know what the truth really is. It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack... that's piled on the back of a truck... going 70 mph down the highway... in the dark... which someone constantly removing parts of the pile and someone else constantly adding more hay to the top. Bad metaphor, I know, but, hey it's the truth. So, when I find the needle of truth in that mess, I hold onto it dearly. Because truth, reality, what really happened is so very important to me. They really can't change the truth, you know, no matter how hard they try. It just is.
But, inability to change the truth won't stop them from trying. Furthermore, it won't stop them from trying to cover it up, either. They're basically professional level liars and manipulators, and they haven't gotten away with it for their entire lives by doing it poorly. They have a system, they cover each other, it works. Unsuspecting non-Narcs who come into contact with them are easily rubed. How could they not be? The Crazymakers have justifications, rationalizations, revisions of history, explanations and misdirection on their side. EF, family lore goes, could have sold icicles to Eskimos.
Jonsi asked in the coments of my Invisibility and Dark Shadows post:
"I wonder Vanci...did anyone you ever met growing up or in your young-adulthood ever tell you that they thought your family behaved strangely or that they were abusive?"
Oh my, Jonsi! What a normal, normal question to ask! This made me laugh out loud, not at the question, certainly, but because it would have been so ludicrous if this had happened. Here's the why:
They moved us around every year for a reason. It's entirely possible to maintain a perfectly perfect projection of a facade of perfectness... for a short period of time. I don't know how much of the grand master plan of physical isolation was completely conscious on the part of NM and EF and how much was below surface, but I'm absolutely positive that they knew at some level that if we stayed anywhere too long, people would get close. And when 'outsiders' get close to a family as fucked up as ours was, they see through the veneer. Most 'normal' people, granted, would turn a blind eye (and of the few who did get close to us in one way or another, the great majority did just that,) but those who got close enough to see some of the truth behind the castle gates and might have done anything about it had very little time to act or react. They usually only began to suspect, it seems, as we were loading up the moving vans.
Even when physical isolation wasn't possible, the Crazymakers created an airtight shelter of emotional isolation. Here's a small sample.
When I was about 11 years old, I began to gain some serious weight. I know now that this was partly a subconscious attempt to make myself unattractive; having been sexually abused wreaks havoc on a girl's self image, particularly as she enters into puberty. I'd imagine I was doing some hormonally driven emotional eating too. With the small amount of safety that my newly unattractive body gave me, I started to open up a bit. I had a couple of close-ish girlfriends for the first time in my young life. I started writing. I had a teacher who took an interest in helping me into 'gifted' classes.
I started to get comfortable with myself. Oops.
I expressed my desire to slim down to NM. She put me on 'slimfast.' No kidding. Almost 12 years old, going through puberty, gaining weight to hide shame, and she put me on a fad diet that A) doesn't really work and B) truly isn't healthy for anybody, really, but especially for a growing girl. So, I became hungry, shamed by my hunger, sick to my stomach and generally ill at ease. Oddly (unless you grew up with Narcs like this,) we ate dinner out in restaurants more during this six month period than any other time that I can remember in my life with the NFOO. And at every single dinner, when the waitress would get around to asking me what I wanted, EF would say, loudly, in his best preacher-man voice, "Oh, she can't have anything! She's on Slimfast!" And then NM would say to him, "EF, don't say that! You know Vanci's sensitive about her weight/dieting!" I would get upset, of course, and my cheeks turn red when I'm ashamed. I was a glowing beacon of chubby shame sitting at a booth in public place.
So, NM would pat my hand and say, always within ear-shot of the waitiress (audience,) "Oh, don't be upset, it's not your fault, Vanci. It's my genes, you know, and so my fault that you tend toward chubby. I've had to work so hard all my life to keep the weight off..."
Unless you grew up with this, unless you've had this happen to you, well, at worst to an observer it just seems weird or it seems like these are parents who don't have a firm grasp on the finer etiquette points of social conversation. At best it appears to be the dialogue of two parents who are lovingly trying to help their overweight daughter to be healthier or fit into society better. No one thinks, "Oh, that nicely dressed married couple over there with the big smiles and the promise of a nice tip are trying to cover up that they routinely torture and humiliate at least one of their children."
They are just so damned good at the show of it all. They have layers and layers of nice painted on the outside; so many that it's really impossible to tell where one lie starts and another begins. They just seem like such nice people. There's a comment I've heard often, and it's totally true! They do seem like nice people, because they act like nice people, and they're good at this charade, because the maintenance of this farce is absolutely critical to the maintenance of the style of living and life they want to have. If they seemed rotten, they'd never be able to get away with it - if they acted on the outside like the monsters that they truly are, CPS would have taken all three of us kids away pronto.
So, unfortunately, no, dear Jonsi, no one ever said those things to me. Most outsiders weren't allowed to be close enough to see beyond the masks. Those few who did make it through weren't allowed access for very long. Of those who did glimpse the reality of the NFOO, most were treated immediately and intensely to the blindingly convincing show of Narc-y Nice Nice. I don't know of any outsider who ever infiltrated to the core, honestly.
And this is the last piece of this answer, and the reason for this post's title. They lied so well that 99% of people believed the lies. Further, they created a lose-lose for me: tell the truth and we'll destroy you, go along with the lie and we'll leave you alone, sometimes. But mostly, and this is the sad part for me, they held so much of my self-worth in their palms, that even when I was the subject of the abuse, I was willing to lie along with them to cover up their 'sins.' After all, even if I didn't believe it was totally my fault, did I really want to create a situation that would leave our family homeless? Take away EF's livelihood? Destroy my mother? Hurt my sister? Devastate my brother? So I drank the kool-aid, you know?
And then, I grew up. I had lots and lots of 'friends' and acquaintances, too, but they didn't really know me. How could they? I learned inauthenticity over my baby food jars. I, too, as the child of manipulative narcissists, can make you believe anything I want you to, should I choose. And with all those friends and acquaintances, I chose to make them believe that I was fine, just fine, can't you see how fine I am. This repression of my pain, primarily, is what led me to the bottle... the release of this repression is what started me down the road to healing.
I don't think that the outsiders we came into contact with were neccesarily stupid, though. I think they just fell victim to the sway of the Narcs, who are very good at their brand of hypnosis. At least that's what I'd like to believe; I really want to think that if there had been any adult in my life long enough to see the reality of my childhood, they'd have spoken up. I'd like to believe that if I'd been capable of being authentic with any of my friends or acquaintances in young adulthood, they would have seen the reality of the situation and come to my aid. I'd like, honestly, to believe that people are generally good at a core level.
And so, that's what I am - honest and authentic and very, very open. I hope beyond hope that my openess, my authenticity, my 100% real and true story can help someone else. And I keep my eyes peeled and my tongue at the ready because I want to be sure that I can be that voice to someone else if the opportunity arises. I want to be able to say (and I have in the past and it's helped others,) "Listen to me, please. You have a right to be treated with decency; you have a right to be treated with respect; above all, in all circumstances, you have an absolute right to defend yourself and an absolute right to safety."
Does it make a difference? To others - I hope so. To me? It makes all the difference.
Love,
Vanci
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