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The following is a collective case study focused on the effects of narcissistic personality disorder and how it relates to the unfolding relationship between my parents. I admit that this was a hard blog post to bring together in a cohesive flow because as I unpacked my mother’s background, I realized just how intricate the details are that create a family system, and it’s not hard at all to empathize and feel deep compassion for the people I love when I come to understand their struggles.
Background Check
My mother came from a large family. Although she was one of six children born to her parents, she had four additional siblings from her parents’ previous marriages. Both of her parents had been married two separate times, and by the time my mother and her full siblings came along, her parents were on both of their third marriages (to each other). Interestingly, and for the era, my maternal grandparents made their blended families work as it appeared on the surface. In fact, my mother and all of her siblings – both full and half – got along very well. Perhaps it was because there were no ex-wives or ex-husbands who could interfere with the family affairs; the exes had all died prior to my maternal grandparents coming together.
Until I was an adult and had completed a genogram assignment, I didn’t realize how well-hidden personal information about my maternal family was in terms of family drama and secrets. There were quite a few secrets, actually, and the secrets were mind-blowing to say the least. Much of what I learned about my mother’s family came from listening in on relatives discuss the plots of their lives during family get-togethers throughout my childhood. I would listen to them in awe as I tried to piece together their stories to make sense of sordid details that would eclipse any reality television drama for sure. I thought my father’s family had drama, but nothing matched the drama from my mother’s side of the family. Unlike my paternal side, my maternal side had a way of keeping secrets locked down so that even a personal passcode would be of no use.
Anyway, my mother’s father was a prominent and well-respected businessman, and her mother was a housewife with varied interests within the community. When I was a child, my maternal grandparents had the type of marriage that I viewed with curiosity. They appeared to have a perfect picturesque marriage until I realized their secret some years later. My maternal grandfather was one of the quietest, calmest, and most patient men I have ever known. He was so easy-going in personality that he could slide right into invisibility. Although he was home most of the time my mother would take me and my siblings for visits, he was hardly ever present in a mental sense. My mother always excused his silence because he worked many hours and enjoyed coming home to rest and enjoy peace. Yet, what he lacked in “presence” my grandmother made up for with her overwhelmingly charismatic and jovial personality. She was always present mentally and physically.
In fact, it was always clear to me even from a young age who was in charge where my mother’s family was concerned even if my maternal grandfather was awarded the title “man of the house“. He seemed to be man of the house in name only because the bulk of the time, it was my his wife who held dominant court. The only time my maternal grandfather would step in with a strength and boldness that always surprised me is when it was possible that any of his children’s deeds could possibly ruin the reputation of his name. Otherwise, he seemed content to remain quiet while sitting in the background letting his wife rule the home. I don’t know. It’s really hard to say. The entire time that I knew my grandfather, he really really had conversations with his grandchildren, and although I was always curious and desired to ask him questions, there was an unspoken rule that questioning him just was not a thing I could do. Children were to be seen and not heard.
Yet, as far as control of the home goes, my maternal grandmother was the queen, and she was treated as such. Although she never meddled in her husband’s business affairs, she equally never seemed to allow him to meddle in the house affairs even though he bought the house and paid the bills. It’s safe to say he bought it for her because she was the queen – his queen – and he was content to allow her to do as she pleased. Ironically, my maternal grandmother was not a mean-spirited person outwardly. She never raised her voice, and she was never one for arguments. She simply spoke. Everyone followed her commands. No one questioned her. Physically, her 4’11” stature was hardly intimidating, but somehow she was able to invoke a profound fear in others with just her glaring stare. No one ever wanted to be on her bad side because her wrath was said to be all-consuming. I had encountered her wrath on numerous occasions, and I had also seen her “scold” her adult children in a way that made me feel uncomfortable for them, and even a bit afraid. Hers was a home where pins and needles were awaiting to stick your fingers and eggshells were awaiting to be cracked underneath your feet.
Presenting Problems For The Future
On the surface, my mother’s family dynamics may not present with problems, but the problems were there. The problems are there. They just have not always been easily visible to the naked eye. Upon further examination, it became apparent to me (even as a child) that my mother’s family was all about “presentation”. What they presented outwardly to the public was held securely together by a frame locked and positioned carefully into place on a wall that they hoped had a firm foundation. However, unfastening the picture of such a perfect family would reveal upon closer inspection that the frame itself loosely surrounded the edges of the picture. With just one careless move, the picture frame crashes – shattering into millions of glistening shards of glass. It is then that the age old questions I have long posed about my mother’s family can finally be answered as I metaphorically inspect each broken piece of glass.
Like my father’s grandparents, my mother’s parents were old fashioned in their values for raising children. Although my paternal grandfather was a very quiet, calm, and laid-back type of father, he was a great provider for his large family. He utilized his many gifts and talents to make his name and businesses a success while his wife held down the household by taking care of their children (including their children from previous marriages). My grandmother was highly skilled in organization and handled money with such precision that she would no doubt have modern-day money gurus taking notes to improve their game. Frankly, she had no choice because she had a huge family to feed and cloth; therefore, being organized in the household and being financially savvy with money was imperative for the family’s survival.
Yet, just like my father’s grandparents views on childrearing, my maternal grandparents also shared the belief that children should be seen and not heard. With all the children within my mother’s household, I find it amazing that the children managed to do just that – be seen and not heard! I am sure my mother’s family was a lot louder than my dad’s family since there were so many more children. With this in mind, I know that the punishments were likely no different form my dad’s family compared to my mother’s family since my culture’s form of discipline has always been based on smacks to the backside with a belt. Plus, it was just common knowledge as a part of the culture to respect the parents’ ability to know what was right and not question the parents. If the children didn’t like it, they might discuss it among themselves, but they never dared to confront their parents. It was just the rule.
With the surface outline of my mother’s family, it may be apparent that my mother presents with issues of insecurities and anxieties from being in a such a controlled environment with a large family of siblings. The rest of her issues I can only present from what I actually know of my mother based on behaviors that I have witnessed first hand. On the other hand, my mother came from a two-parent home where provisions were made for her and her siblings. Although my mother’s family appeared to be rather close, I am not sure about how love was felt or expressed in her family. I think I just always understood that close families loved each other, and that closeness spoke for love itself.
Yet, just like with my father’s family, love seemed hard, cold, and distant in my mother’s family. Love was even aloof because when my mother’s twin brother was killed in war, her family rarely spoke of him again. I always had the impression that they were made not to discuss him by his mother (my mother’s mother). Perhaps this was her way of handling her grief and the grief of the entire family, but she did keep her son’s memory alive by building a shrine in a small room that housed all of his pictures and accomplishments. (No one was allowed in the room; that was an understood and clear expectation.) Although my mother would always speak fondly about her twin brother, her verbal memories always agitated her mother and conversations about him would cease. Because of these types of behaviors that I witnessed, I realized even then that there was more to my mother’s family than the presentation of their picturesque life. They were in pain, and they experienced grief, but they kept their pain and grief hidden. Thus, I can also add that my mother may present with issues of complicated grief … a grief that has not had moments to be shared nor honored where loss has been concerned in her life – particularly the loss of her twin brother.
For the most part, my mother’s problems were not so apparent until she actually married and had children of her own. Even if her immediate family was aware that problems existed, they were not going to talk about them. For them, the problems were a part of life. Although, once my mother married my father, it was then that my mother’s issues came to the surface in a way that could not go unnoticed because my father had a different upbringing. So based on my personal assessments from actually having lived with my mother as well the information I was privy to as a child from hearing my dad or others discuss, I would say that my mother also presents with an array of problems in regards to interpersonal relationships particularly as they related to her mother. In fact, her mother would be the main influencer of a host of my mother’s issues for years to come. Separating the two of them would be a difficult task even after her marriage to my father.
Continue to stay posted for more of this story to come …
My Voice Unchained 