I didn’t like it.
It came roundabout to me in a discussion about my childhood. It became quite apparent that my dad was selfish. An only son of a mother who had several miscarriages, and then him, on Mother’s Day. The makings of a narcissist. A mild narcissist, in my view, as I have known two or three quite well by now.
Not like “-“, but the same tendencies.
Since he died a few years ago, I have felt guilty about being a bad daughter. We weren’t very close, and I didn’t like what he was about very much. Also, I was his youngest, and felt like he ran out of parenting juice for me.
This came up because I recalled a lot of things, including a memory from when I was about 6 – 7. I was bothering my mother as she was trying to make dinner. She told me to go bother my dad. I got a book and asked him if he would read it to me. He peered over his newspaper and said no. I could read, couldn’t I?
That was over 40 years ago, but it is still one of the stories I tell when asked about my childhood. There were a lot of things like that. And judgment.
I tried so hard not to marry someone like him, and I didn’t, physically or culturally, but personality-wise, they were pretty darn close — quick to anger, judgment, stingy with the praise, better than me, and, well, just about everyone. Entitled. King. I feel like I was tricked by “-“, though, because at first he idolized me and idealized me. Then the devalue and discard phases of the classic narcissistic relationship came.
I have really softened toward my dad. I can forgive him. I hope he forgave me. He was living his life the best he could with what he had. Me too.
Can I do that with “-” someday?
I really don’t know.