I was skulking around again and found this post. I, too, dealt, or rather was dealt with, by a narcissistic father and a mother who pretty much checked out of most things maternal before I was in high school. To be fair to her, my dad was physically and emotionally abusive to both of us. Only my older sister escaped his wrath.

I spent many, many years just being angry and feeling victimized all the time. Add mental illness to the mix and I was an alphabetic soup of disorders- all undiagnosed until very late in life.

My dad is still alive and turned 90 recently. My sis was and is on me constantly to call, go see or otherwise interact with him. It’s only been in the last ten years that I’ve felt strong enough to not fear him. Even though he has grown frail and I have been able to take him down for quite a long time. Still, just the thought of being around him was frightening to me. My childhood was me walking into a field of ever shifting land mines, never knowing what would set him off that day resulting in me, in broken, bruised pieces, trying to recover enough so mom wouldn’t notice when she showed up from wherever she went to on days he was home.

I could never understand why my behavior and grades garnered so much attention from him other than the results of the IQ tests he dragged me in to take while he was getting his first post graduate degree in psychology. (Physician, heal thyself, much??). I was never told the results of any of the tests or follow up tests done behind a spooky one way mirror at the university he attended. I did later discover my IQ, quite by accident after seeing it in a letter a professor had sent to dad. At the time, I had no idea what the parameters were and thought I was just an average, albeit forgetful, and overly curious kid. However, from what this letter contained, the professor was requesting further tests and placement in study groups since my IQ was above 180. I was thirteen when I read this letter. I never told dad I read it, I at least, had that much self preservation. But, after those tests, the scrutiny got worse and the physical attacks grew more severe.

Years later after much research on my own...because there was no chance in hell I was going to a psychologist when I had one in my house beating the crap out of me until I left home at 17...it dawned on me. He realized he was no longer the smartest one in the room and it was my fault. He couldn’t deal with that. Then, fast forward another twenty years. My sister had become obsessed with genealogy and home DNA tests. She finally opened up to me about the main reason she took one and had dad take one. There had been a question as to who her father was. I knew mom had been pregnant when she and dad married...I did the math on that one in grade school. Anyway, what I didn’t know was that mom had been a party girl and slept with some guy at a party while she and dad were dating, She found out she was pregnant and was honest with dad. He decided to marry her to save face and possibly, her reputation although, who the hell knows with him. This was the early sixties and things were a bit on the stoic side during those days. So...quicky marriage then eight months later baby number one. This was followed up 18 moths later with me...enter baby number two. Now, DNA testing was way off in the distant future so for all of my childhood and young semi adult life; I was the only offspring he was certain of. So...I had to be perfert. If not, it was a poor reflection on him. Ergo- break her and mold her in my image. Sucks for him - it didn’t turn out that way.

Anyway....long, long story just to say, yeah...I can relate. I do love the nutty bastard now and we actually talk a couple of times a month. I don’t tell my sister this because it is quite fun to mess with her. She has no sense of humor which, to me, is friggen hilarious because she makes the perfect straight guy to my warped humorous mind. I might be just a teeniest bit like my dad after all.