I’ve been trying to remember what prompted me to look into my mother’s behaviour while I was growing up. I guess I’m looking for a way to mark the beginning of the big discovery.
Here is a little background on the past few months.
I’d been diagnosed with depression and anxiety (again) last March (2014). My former doctor prescribed Zoloft. It seemed to help, but not all the time. I felt like I was on a cycle. Sometimes good, other times not so good, a few times really really bad. I began to realize that my moods followed my cycle. I was very moody and irritable before my period and mid-cycle when I was ovulating. I always got pms, but never like this. I am 46, and had noticed perimenopause symptoms for the last couple of years. My former doctor completely ignored anything I said about perimenopause and chose to treat the symptoms instead. She took blood tests, and from the results she told me I wasn’t in menopause. To her, it was an either you are or you’re not thing. I have learned from my new gynecologist that the 5 years leading up to menopause we experience wild fluctuations in our hormone levels, which can have a huge effect on our moods. He prescribed the pill to regulate my hormone fluctuations, and under my gp’s guidance I weaned myself off the Zoloft, reducing my dose by 25mg per week. As of today, I have been off Zoloft for 50 days. I have been experiencing really bad withdrawal symptoms, but I have noticed that I am feeling better lately. It could have something to do with us being out of her house too though.
I was noticing, during those moody times, that I couldn’t stand my mother. In fact, I hated her. She made me irritable, so I avoided her, and I think she felt it. I was talking to my good friend about it, and she asked me if she was a nice mom while growing up. She said that it is possible that I suppressed memories, and they are just coming to the surface now. That really made me think. It was like red flags going off.
Without prompting, I remember my mom spanking me, using wooden spoons on my hands, washing my mouth out with soap, and yelling and screaming all of the time.
I think I googled “Why do I hate my mom”. Anyhow, soon enough I was reading all kinds of information on narcissistic moms, and I felt like I was reading about my family.
The following is what I wrote in my journal on Wednesday, June 17, 2015.
Ok, so this is big! It’s the biggest thing I’ve EVER realized about my childhood. I realized on Monday (could have been Sunday…it’s all been so emotional since the discovery) that my mother is a narcissist. I am the daughter of a Narcissistic Mother!
I’ve been reading about it on the internet and my family is a classic case to a T! My mom had her “golden children” (some more golden than others) and her “scapegoats”. The scapegoats were basically bullied all their lives by their own mother, and the golden children joined in, or did it for her. It’s painful to imagine what life must have been like for my other siblings, especially the scapegoats.
I’m remembering a lot of bad memories, even before the actual realization that my mom has a mental disorder. I’m going to need an outlet, somebody to talk to who understands the disorder. I’m really afraid of the memories that might come forth. I’m just hoping for a bit of good along with the bad.
So, there you go. I made the big discovery that I am the daughter of a narcissistic mother about one month ago.
~ Poking Holes ~
The following video is me reading out some journal entries, including the one above.