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Mirror, mirror

As I wind down my discussion of NPD, I wanted to share a few final thoughts….

First off, I have found that part of the recovery process for anyone who has experienced this (and it is a process) necessitates shifting your focus away from all the things the narcissistic parent did to traumatize/damage you and instead focusing on understanding how you were affected by their behavior and growing from that. It sure doesn’t do me a lick of good to carry around a bunch of old resentments or re-hash all the crazy stunts my father has pulled over the years. Rather, what has helped me the most is the work I have done to a) strengthen myself, b) understand my weaknesses, and c) move toward greater self-acceptance while at the same time concentrating on self-improvement and growth.

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Love is a battlefield

Yesterday, I devoted many words to Narcissistic Personality Disorder, or NPD. My dad, although never formally diagnosed, shows enough of the symptoms that I think it’s safe to say he’s got it and has had it for most of his adult life. I wrote a lot yesterday about what it was like to grow up with a parent who had NPD, and based on my own experience as well as my research into the subject, there’s no question in my mind that the damage can be pervasive. I found a quote from a psychologist (Alan Rappoport, from an article published in 2005) that I thought sums all of that up really well:

These traits will lead overly narcissistic parents to be very intrusive in some ways, and entirely neglectful in others. The children are punished if they do not respond adequately to the parents’ needs. This punishment may take a variety of forms, including physical abuse, angry outbursts, blame, attempts to instill guilt, emotional neglect, and criticism. Whatever form it takes, the purpose of the punishment is to enforce compliance with the parents’ narcissistic needs.

Rappoport really hits the nail on the head when he says that narcissistic parents can “be very intrusive in some ways and entirely neglectful in others.” From my own experience, even now that I’m an adult, my father sticks his nose into areas of my life that I would rather he stay out of, and the areas of my life that I might actually enjoy sharing with him, he takes no interest in. For a long time, this bothered me (and the inappropriate questions and general snoopiness do still annoy me to an extent) but the first rule of surviving a narcissistic parent is to let go of any hope that the parent will change, to stop wishing for revenge (karmic or not), and to begin to accept the idea that while you cannot change or control your parent, you can control two very important factors:

  1. How often you are exposed to your narcissistic parent.
  2. How you react to your parent’s inappropriate and/or abusive behavior.

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Cracking the mirror

Fathers, be good to your daughters/Daughters will love like you do…
-John Mayer

One week ago, I returned home from a trip to the town where I grew up, Bellevue, Washington. I had not been out to visit in nearly three years, although my mother and father had made a couple of trips to visit me in my current home base of Charleston, SC in the interim.

Part of the impetus for this trip was that I needed to use the value of a ticket I’d booked last year for a visit to my now ex-fiance in California — I of course canceled that trip after we split up. The deadline to use the ticket was approaching quickly, though (you get one year from the original date of purchase), so I decided to head back to my old stomping grounds, spend some time with my parents, and also make a brief trip down to Eugene, Oregon to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and their two kids, including the one-year-old niece I hadn’t yet had an opportunity to meet. My boyfriend came along for the first part of the trip, too, so that he could see something of the Seattle area for the first time.

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So what does it mean?

Post note: I started writing this post well over a month ago, and then life intervened and I’m just now getting around to finishing it. Look for more blogular action from my corner of the internet soon. :)

I’m back on the marital soapbox, as it were. With today’s little post, I plan to take a step beyond the wedding ritual and start rooting around in the guts of that storied institution known as marriage.

What is marriage? What does it mean to be married? Is marriage a good thing? Do we even know the answers to any of these questions? Should we care? I certainly won’t claim to have all the answers but I certainly have an opinion or two, as you regular readers know.

So here’s my personal working definition of marriage: it’s a legal agreement entered into (typically) by two people of the opposite sex that affords them certain rights and privileges. (The debate over same-sex marriage, which I also have plenty of opinions about, deserves its own post so I won’t go into that — much — here.)

Anyway, that’s a simple enough definition, right? Take away all the emotional, cultural, religious, and other baggage, and that’s really all a marriage is — it’s a legal arrangement. But I’d posit that the cultural and societal baggage associated with marriage is what has the potential to make it, well…. kinda sucky.

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I’m taking a brief hiatus from my little series on marriage (much to my boyfriend’s relief, no doubt :) ) to weigh in on the recent tragedy in Tucson, AZ.

It seems everyone has an opinion about what happened there, and I’m no different. For myself, though, I’d prefer not to venture into the right vs. left argument about whether or not Loughner’s attack on Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and 19 others was politically motivated. Instead, I’d like to focus on the questions surrounding mental health and the issues of individual freedom vs. collective good that this incident has raised.

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For my first little commentary on the institution of marriage, I’d like to be somewhat linear and start with that ritual that is typically the precursor to a marriage: the wedding. More specifically, I’d like to discuss how generally horrified I am at how downright ridonkulous weddings have become in this day and age.

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From this day forward

Don’t say I didn’t warn you! I have marriage on the brain — not in that unbearably vehement, nagging, hyperventilating, psychotic Bridezilla sort of way (yuck) but rather in a more philosophical, analytical sort of way. Let’s be real and consider the source for a moment: me. Me, who in the space of a decade ran the gamut from starry-eyed newlywed to divorcee to spurned fiancee to…. someone who refuses to define herself or measure her self-worth in terms of her romantic relationships or lack thereof.

I wouldn’t call myself an authority on marriage. Heck, I wouldn’t call myself an authority on anything. I’m just a woman with an overabundance of opinions, an axe or two to grind (maybe), and a blog. Deadly combination, that. What follows in this post and subsequent ones tagged “marriage” are simply my thoughts on the subject, along with references to the people, experiences, and concepts that have informed those thoughts. That’s all. Nothing to be scared of, unless of course you are scared in which case I’m strangely flattered and mildly weirded out, considering I’m Just. One. Person.

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A diamond is forever?

I got some pretty positive, supportive responses to my post earlier this week about my “leftover” engagement ring, including a really great reality check from my old high school friend, Leonard, in the form of a link to this article from the February 1982 edition of the Atlantic Monthly. Though nearly 30 years old, the article is chock-full of excellent information on the diamond industry and that cartel of all cartels, De Beers. For those who don’t have time to read through the whole thing (it’s quite lengthy) I’ll quote Leonard’s perfect summary: “Diamonds are worthless and their supposed value is entirely a fiction of marketing created by the De Beers cartel.”

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On ice

In April of last year, I was given a 1.03 carat diamond engagement ring. It consisted of an emerald-cut diamond (my favorite) in a plain platinum setting. No silly baguettes or other side stones, no distractions from the simple elegance of the diamond itself. In my rather muddled, vulnerable mental state, I believed at the time that I was in love with the guy who gave it to me. I also believed he was in love with me. (Lesson #1, kids: just because you believe something doesn’t make it so.)

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Some stats….

In an effort to figure out where most of my blog traffic comes from, I took a look at the very comprehensive site statistics as provided by WordPress. Below are the top ten search engine terms that brought people to little ol’ Out and Back during 2010, followed by the resulting number of page views:

loaches – 621

platys – 204

dojo loach – 161

the front is like a car the back is like a truck – 69

octopus ride – 66

coney island face – 62

abandoned school – 54

guppy fry – 48

abandoned school buildings – 47

dojo loaches – 43

Apparently, my old posts about the various fish I’ve kept as pets at one time or another are popping a lot in the search engines, as is my post declaring my undying love for the Chevrolet El Camino.  Then there are the Coney Island and amusement park -related ramblings, not to mention a post I wrote about an abandoned school in Cateechee, SC. So… fishies, old cars, and ephemera…. that’s what drives my site traffic. I suppose there are worse things. And hey, to all you loach-lovers out there, check out the “Dojo Loaches!” t-shirt for sale in my CafePress shop.

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