I was going to do a third and final part, but I’ve been leaving out the more severe, highly abusive details of my experience for the sake of not being TOO personal. As well, I aim to make these pieces compact so you don’t lose interest.
However, to make sure I really touch on everything I want to touch on, I am breaking this part into two pieces.
This part is going to focus solely on how my mother tried to dictate my relationships and sexuality.
The important thing to note about narcissists is even as predictable as they can become, they can be highly contradictory of their own behaviours and beliefs. While I was traditionally brought up with the notion that sex should only come when you’re in love with someone, my mother’s tune began to change by the time I began to develop into a woman.
Firstly, she pushed me to wear makeup and always present myself as being attractive. During an awkward, acne-riddled stage of my adolescence, this was in part why I was pressured to wear makeup.
I was predisposed to negative notions about sex due to my mother having been molested as a child. She constantly filled my head with ideas that people close to me, such as my uncles and even my own biological father, could be potential predators. This is where the contradictory aspect comes in.
Because as much as my mother filled my head with fear, she also had no problem dumping all of her sexual misgivings on me either. She constantly complained about her failing sex life, how she would use sexual favours to get money from my stepfather, and so on.
She also instilled in me that I had to tolerate inappropriate sexual behaviour from boys. I remember when a boy I had begun seeing asked me “what kind of vagina I had, an innie or an outtie.” I was appalled, but my mother chastised me for my prudence, saying I needed to “accept men are pigs if I ever wanted to get one.”
This is where things continued to be contradictory.
I was actually encouraged to date men or status, even if that meant I found myself a “sugar daddy.” Anybody else wasn’t acceptable, and my mother would go on to look down on and bad-mouth any guy I dated who didn’t have money.
I was also pushed on my stance on sex. I waited until the age of 21 before having sex, et my mother made a point to chastise me for being too “stuck up” about it.
Which is why the slut-shaming and possessiveness confused me so much.
Once I got into my twenties, my mother’s failing health took a big toll on her physical appearance. This caused her to form jealousy towards me, and this made her try to sabotage any man who tried to get near me and even go as far as to accuse me of lude acts if I met their attention positively.
The worst was after she began cheating on my stepfather – which many narcissists do – she began accusing me of cheating on my ex-fiance. It was constant, aggressive and volatile. She would gaslight me, saying that because SHE CHEATED … she knew what cheating looked like, so there was no point in me “lying.” She would argue until I was exhausted, hoping that if I just broke down, she would not only have something to hold against me, but she wouldn’t have to feel as guilty for her own adultery. Because her “perfectionist daughter” made the same mistake.
She would also say:
“Honey, I can’t help you if you don’t tell the truth. I’ve made mistakes, I know you did too. I can’t help you if you don’t TELL THE TRUTH!”
She would argue until I was exhausted, hoping that if I just broke down, she would not only have dirt to use against me and control me, but she wouldn’t have to feel as guilty for her own adultery.
Because her “perfectionist daughter” made the same mistake. Even if it wasn’t true, if she could make me admit to crimes I never committed, she could use the fact I admitted to it to manipulate me.
She got the entire family in on it, filling their heads with ideas that male friends and coworkers were my secret lovers. My own younger brother tried to approach me about it, asking me why I was being inappropriate with other men when I was engaged.
When I wouldn’t give in to the gaslighting, she began attacking my appearance and calling me vain. This was projection, of course, as my mother was obsessively vain.
She shamed my body, telling me I was too thin, “lost my boobs” and that my body was offensive. As she began gaining weight, she would try to pressure me into gaining unhealthy amounts of weight for a woman as small as me. At only 5’, she wanted me to weigh anywhere between 130-150 lbs, where a healthy weight for a woman my size can range from 100-115 lbs.
When I didn’t comply, she would accuse me of looking sick, followed by passive-aggressive jabs at anything she could think of.
“You know, skinny isn’t attractive anymore. Men don’t like bone racks.”
She also became extremely possessive over me when men began approaching me. One night, we attended a barn dance where my stepfather was playing in his band. Men continuously approached me, asking me to dance. At first, she was fine with me dancing, but quickly changed her mind the more men approached me. She began trying to force me - an adult woman at the time - to sit in her lap while she scoffed at anybody who got near me.
When I stopped tolerating that and went back to dancing, she violently ripped me off the dance floor and forced me to leave with her. Her excuse was she was trying to prevent me from "getting a stalker" and assuring me "none of the men there were good enough for me."
In reality, she was seething with jealousy. I know, began she impassively mentioned how men used to give her "all kinds of attention, just like that" on the ride home.
Because of her constant mingling and toxicity, I had an unhealthy view of relationships and sex. I thought it was all self-serving, that it was wrong, confusing. I struggled with affection, with trust, body image and my own sexuality. When I did start having sex, I was very timid and awkward and formed a fixation on violent and degrading sex. It sort of ... freed me of the "guilt" of doing something that I thought was dirty or for the pleasure of my partner only.
If he was doing it TO ME, then I had no responsibility. I wasn't a slut or a whore to anybody but him. Something I discovered in therapy.
To be continued.
Most Helpful Opinions