A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 36
Dear T-
I remember when we first met. You were a scruffy 11 year old on the school bus, I was 14 and selling candy for the band. You wanted me to give you candy for free. I remember seeing into your soul and thinking how much we were alike. Both from dysfunctional families, both children of narcs, both desperately needy for someone to love us.
I remember how horrible your home life was. How needy all your brothers and sisters looked and acted. How your worn out mother had a string of loser husbands, how the last one locked himself in the bathroom with a gun threatening to kill himself if she wouldn’t take him back. I remember offering your mother to let you live with me and her giving me custody of you when I was only 18 and single, so you could have some stability in your life.
I remember how completely impractical and silly you were, how we all laughed at your questions and observations. I remember thinking how you and reality didn’t know each other, how stupid you were but thought you were so smart. Like when you gave me a pot plant for my birthday, thinking I would raise it for you in ignorance, then your complete shock when I knew what it was. I remember how sad it made me when I realized you were a narcissist and there was nothing I could do but watch you use people and lie.
I remember how horrified I was when I heard how you had abandoned your two little girls in a commune in Wisconsin. How the only way their father found them was because the 8 year old knew his number and called him. I remember how pathetically eager they were to come with me for weeks at a time, how sweet and strong they both were, how eager for knowledge and opportunities to learn.
I remember my shock when your now grown girls explained to me why you hated me and refused to see me, because you resented that I had done so much for them over the years and that they loved me more than they loved you. I remember how sad it made me feel to hear that they had cut you out of their lives and how they were determined to never marry or have children of their own because of your example.
I remember the last time I saw you, just a couple years ago. How we met for coffee at a Bosnian restaurant and you told me all about your life now and tried to make it sound good. How as you told me what all you were doing, I sat there looking at you thinking how everything you ever did was really just selfishly using the few people in your life who cared about you. How we all saw you for what you really are and put up with you as a charity, but you were totally unaware of what we think. How you still lived in a pretend world of your imagination like you did when you were that 11 year old girl I met all those years ago. I remember seeing into your soul and thinking how much we are so different.
With love always,
Moi
10 thoughts on “A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 36”
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Windstorm,
This is my second go at reading this one…I remember the impact it had on me the first time I read it. It makes it even more interesting to me, now that I know it’s your letter. All the hallmarks of you being a giver and one who can be unaffected by others (at your good core) are in this letter. Also, I wanted to share how it affected me personally, in reflecting on a childhood friend…I really appreciated this letter because it’s another vantage point on how narcissism devours so many lives, and how little ones brought up in it (and those to come) can suffer in countless, far-reaching ways.
This letter made me think back to a few homes I was in as a child — playing after school. I remember that no matter whose home I was in, if something was “off,” I could feel it… I’d pick up on the undercurrents with the adults present, no matter how things “appeared” in order — I’d catch the micro facial expressions, tiny details of interactions, or other visuals in the environment that were peculiar. I’d absorb these things, not really understanding the meaning behind them — but sensing something very different was going on than what it seemed – that something was really wrong.
In this particular case, the messiness and dysfunction was disguised~it was all internal, and a big façade was put up… but children (especially empaths) can often feel the reality. This particular home always made me feel uneasy just being there, but there was nothing overt… just a bunch of little clues that made me feel a darkness below the surface — that there was power being wielded — and fear. I was treated very carefully by the parents, but I could feel their cheerfulness and niceness as phony… and my friend (very sweet/an empath for sure) seemed so much smaller in the confines of her home, like she had no voice… like she didn’t matter at all. I hated being there. This friend came over to my house so much more than I ever went to hers…but little pieces of experiences at her house flash back at me as I reflect, and the pieces fit together more now, in a way that’s sad to absorb. I think the Mom was a narcissist, and I absolutely believe it was an abusive home. I wish I had known. I wish I had been able to do something.
How many children are trapped in dysfunctional/abusive homes– and nobody knows? I think about that a lot. Our gut tells us so much, every day. I think taking all this in as a child is one reason why I’ve always had an eagle eye out for children~felt led to be involved with projects to help, in what small ways I can.
My original family moved several times, and I’ve long lost touch with this sweet childhood friend, but I think of her often and hope she’s okay today…I wish I could have done more for her.
Thank you for sharing this letter, Windstorm.
Caroline
Thank you very much for your response to my letter. I have often regretted sharing it because it is so different from the other letters – being about a non-romantic entanglement with a narc. And also that my being an odd duck, many people see my less emotional way of looking at narcs as unfeeling. The first time my letter was posted someone commented that they thought it was written by a narcissist. Lol!
For me personally, I’ve really never had a romantic narc relationship. There was certainly nothing even vaguely romantic in my relationship with my husband. I have only encountered lovebombing once, very briefly by a midranger on another continent, and it was so ridiculous I just assumed he had mental problems.
But I have always been surrounded by narcs since birth and necessarily learned how to spot them and be wary. I had very few friends at school growing up and was rarely allowed to visit them, but when I did, I encountered that undercurrent of fear and unease that you described. It seemed fairly normal to me, except there were undercurrents of violence that I didn’t understand.
My friends were often beaten and suffered physical and sexual abuse that I never had to deal with. My abuse was all emotional and psychological. Now looking back, I believe that was because their fathers were lesser narcs, whereas mine was either a UMR or a LG. I guess it makes sense that my handful of friends would all be narc victims. That commonality of brokenness is probably what drew us together.
But I understand exactly what you mean about your friends house and your concern for what happened to her. Life is hard, especially on the children of narcs. We all come up with our own coping strategies which all too often lead us into narc marriages and self-abuse of one type or another.
We can’t go back and help our friends. The best we can do is to try to pay it forward and set an example for the young girls with whom we interact. Let them see that we understand, Weve been there and made it out the other side. Even though our past has scarred us and warped us, We have still had successful lives, are respected and happy. As the saying goes, “Living well is the best revenge.”
Thank you so much for your thoughtful insight, Windstorm. That – and sharing your letter – has helped me more than you know… an even more tragic event happened to another childhood friend of mine, and I think I’ve carried survivor’s guilt. It’s taken me this long to figure that out, though it should have been obvious that I was putting that on myself… being aware of that will help me to release it.
I’d never think a narcissist wrote your letter, as it’s filled with empathic acts and also shows you have a great ability to dig deep and see/know the truth in others, however unpleasant. You’re practical about the realities — that doesn’t make you cold.
I love that you focused on a different narcissistic relationship~~I feel your letter makes it extra valuable for the blog.
Thanks again:-).
Windstorm
Never regret sharing your letter. It is precisely because it is different and not representative of the romantic entanglement (that gets a fair share of the focus,and rightly so, but is not the case for us all) that it is valuable to me and to many others. You are right in that we cannot go back and your message about paying it forward and setting an example is as valuable a message as your original letter. We are all ducks (sitting ones in the narcissistic view lol so you have much company there). I like ducks and this is an awesome pond to be swimming in with you.
Dont look now but theres that show off Cob (male swan) HG. Makes his presence known that one. A real Trumpeter and not a Mute-just our luck. Just look at that bevy of Pens (females) trying to catch his attention and get a honk. Its said they mate for life. Whats that dear? Did you say something Windstorm? I’ll be back in a minute-how do my feathers look?……
NarcAngel
You are a bright spot in my life! You’re always quacking me up! 🦆. Now you’ve given me something new to do – research duck/swan terminology. Lol!
What a story again. Those letters are really telling there is always parts where we see similarities with our own story.
Seems like you have moved on. When did you really understood you were with a Narc ? How did that happened?
The signature in French made me sick. My narc number 3 always signed his important email or text ( the emotional ones) Moi. That means ” me ‘ in French. I now realise how freaky it is to sign that way and that was part of the writing ont the walls I did not see.
All those things I have luckily forgotten.
Omj
My life has always been full of narcs, although I didn’t recognize any until probably my late teens. This one was a friend that I came to think of as a little sister. I probably recognized her as a narc that year she lived with me when she was 16 and me 19. That was over 40 years ago.
Yes I definitely have moved on. Way past any emotional thinking. Now I’m just left with a residual sadness for her and all of us. I very rarely see her anymore, but I do keep up with her daughters, whom I consider my nieces.
Funny your comments about using “moi” as my name! I have studied several languages but French is my favorite. When I was younger I signed all notes to my immediate family with “moi”. Everyone knew it was me and it seemed a way to express myself and irritate my mother (two birds with one stone!).
I was rarely addressed by my name all thru my life. Normally I was just called “you” or not called any name at all.
As to what type of person does calls themself Moi? In my case a very narc-oppressed empath trying to show her individuality.
Are these real letters or just ones you make up HG?
Read the comments to them.
Michele
I wrote this one.