Impromptu lies are the most fun kind

Because the narcissist hasn't had time to weave an elaborate network of deception, and what he blurts out is just funny.

A few days ago, my aunt came to visit. As she is in frequent contact with my father, she told him of this plan, and he asked her to take a few pictures of our new redecorations in progress so he could see what the new big space in our apartment looks like.

He mentioned this when he called me on the phone yesterday. So I asked "Why would you ask my aunt to send you pictures? We've been documenting the whole process thoroughly with our own camera and can certainly send pictures ourselves if you're interested."

His response? "Well, ummm, I didn't know if you were at home. Or at the summer house. And you don't have a landline there. And text messaging is... Ummm."

He knew my aunt was coming to visit us. But he didn't know if we were at home. While she was visiting us. At home.

This just makes me laugh. But it doesn't help me get to the real reason. Is it beneath him to ask me for the pictures of my home? Is he demonstrating to me that he can find "spies" all around who'll provide him with pictures of everything I do, so he can "control" it from a distance? What's the real deal here? I don't get it. It's silly and it doesn't even upset me, but I find myself genuinely curious.

How my father ruined our special day and then lied about it

It almost seemed like a genuine mix-up at the time, although so many things didn't add up. But now that I know my father is a pathological liar, I have a new take on it. He deliberately interfered with our plans for the day my newborn daughter and I left the hospital just so it could all be about him, and what he did ruined it for us.

The story: my husband and MIL are supposed to pick my newborn first daughter and me up from the hospital after 11 days we spent there (that's another, long, sad story). We have the time agreed upon. My father phones my husband and asks him when he's picking us up at the hospital. My unsuspecting husband answers the question truthfully.

I'm slowly getting ready to leave my hospital room, nursing my daughter in a relaxed way, because I know I have more than half an hour before my husband arrives. The nurse suddenly enters the room and tells me my ride is here! I start packing like a maniac and leave within seconds. The baby hasn't nursed properly, but we'll be home soon, so I can live with that, but still I'm a bit angry about this already.

Whaddya know? The person waiting downstairs isn't my husband. It's - surprise, surprise! - my FATHER. I'm in shock. I shout "What are you doing here? Is DH here?" He's genuinely surprised that I'm not ecstatic to see him, the only true light of my life, instead of my husband. His saccharine smile turns into a pale "oops" expression.

"This is not the person who's here to pick you up?" Asks the nurse. "NO!" I shout. "Then we can't release you." Of course. My husband was supposed to bring clothes for the baby and me. It's the middle of winter. I'm standing in the icy hallway, freezing in the thin, short, revealing hospital gown, and my baby... my baby is placed on a table behind glass, wrapped into cloth, and I can't hold her, I'm just looking at her lying there all alone, next to another poor screaming baby. My baby's not crying, she's just lying there, looking sad. 

I turn to my father. "What were you thinking? Why did you come here? Why did you get me out of the room?" I'm yelling.

He realizes now that whatever he was trying to pull by coming before my husband failed miserably. Did he want to be the first to hold the baby, even before her own father? Did he think he'd be the first to have himself some alone time with us and then boast about it? Whatever beautiful image was concocted in his mind was now shattering into pieces. "I didn't..." he starts. "She misunderstood. I just asked about you, and said I was your father, and they brought you here."

I was angry even while I believed it. Just coming there, uninvited, unannounced, completely inappropriately, on purpose beating my husband to it by half an hour, even if he wasn't planning to get me out of my room on his own, was a major offense. Now that I realize his story was probably a lie, and he most likely did want us out of there and to himself, I'm appalled.

"Because I hate you."

This was something my father said quite frequently.

I only recently realized that I don't remember he ever actually said "I love you" to me. It was just so strongly implied that no one would dare question it. And the most frequent way it was implied was when I asked permission to do something, he refused it, I asked "Why?" and he replied:

"Because I hate you."

He said it in a sarcastic tone of voice, and it was meant to be interpreted as "What you want is bad for you and I love you, and that's why I won't let you do it." I think. That's how I interpreted it, anyway.

Now? Now it seems to me that even a pathological liar of his abilities could not bring himself to lie on this one. He told the truth for once.

An exhaustive list...

... of things narcissistic parents do.

"Because her abusiveness is part of a lifelong campaign of control and because she is careful to rationalize her abuse, it is extremely difficult to explain to other people what is so bad about her. She’s also careful about when and how she engages in her abuses. She’s very secretive, a characteristic of almost all abusers (“Don’t wash our dirty laundry in public!”) and will punish you for telling anyone else what she’s done. The times and locations of her worst abuses are carefully chosen so that no one who might intervene will hear or see her bad behavior, and she will seem like a completely different person in public. She’ll slam you to other people, but will always embed her devaluing nuggets of snide gossip in protestations of concern, love and understanding (“I feel so sorry for poor Cynthia. She always seems to have such a hard time, but I just don’t know what I can do for her!”) As a consequence the children of narcissists universally report that no one believes them (“I have to tell you that she always talks about YOU in the most caring way!). Unfortunately therapists, given the deniable actions of the narcissist and eager to defend a fellow parent, will often jump to the narcissist’s defense as well, reinforcing your sense of isolation and helplessness (“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that!”)"

Sigh. The "perfect father" campaign was so successful that even I made myself grudgingly believe it much of my life - he boasts about me and praises my accomplishments in front of others, he must love me... right? I knew better than to air dirty laundry in public - in fact, I never spoke to anyone about anything personal at all, and hated talking about family stuff with anyone. As a result, I actually never had close friends - just discussion sparring partners.

Everything is deniable, everything is "not meant in a mean way", everything can be spun so that others find it hard to believe us. Kiki has a heartbreaking post on how her godmother took her mother's side and completely ignored and discounted her truth. The same happened to me with my ILs. Many things narcissists do has also been done by normal, imperfect parents. It's the moments when the mask slips, when you look at the abyss behind, the disgust, the hatred, the enjoyment of hurting you, that makes all the difference and that can't be explained or proven to others.

"While she may never praise you to your face, she will likely crow about your victories to the very sibling who is not doing well. She’ll tell you about the generosity she displayed towards that child, leaving you wondering why you got left out and irrationally angry at the favored child rather than at the narcissist who told you about it. "

I only now understand some of he sillier lies my father told. I'm an only child, so he seems to have used his girlfriend in an attempt to create the twisted golden child/scapegoat dynamic. For instance, when we redid the old summer house in an attempt to make it inhabitable at the beginning of our marriage, struggling with money all the while, of course, but happy and proud of what we'd done, he visited for the first time, after 16 months. He told me, for some reason, right after discounting everything we did with "You shouldn't have wasted money on this summer house" (which was our home at the time, mostly because I knew we wouldn't really let us have the city apartment), that he had just given 7,000 euros to his girlfriend so she could redecorate the apartment she rents out.

When I later mentioned this to her in casual conversation, she was genuinely surprised and shocked. He never gave me any money, she said. The crazy lie had just one function: to make me realize I was now the less beloved one.

Something is rotten

The official stories of my family of origin are so ludicrous that, now that I think about them, more and more of them seem certain to me to be covering up lies.

Take the story of my conception. My mother told me once, in a whispering tone of voice, that nothing was wrong with her and that they'd been trying to have a child for 12 years because my father had a low sperm count. You can only find out you have a low count by being tested. My father recently told me they'd only been trying for 2 years and there were no real problems. It makes no sense. But his official story has changed.

My aunt told me the official story as it was told back then. My mother conceived a few months after my aunt, her stepsister, 13 years her junior, gave birth to her son. This was after 12 years of marriage. What a coincidence, right? Amazing! Only, not really. Because he felt the need to explain it, authoritatively, in such a sappy, insane fashion, that it has "FAKE" written all over it:

Allegedly, my mother held her newborn nephew and this finally got her hormones going, so she conceived!

Yes. That was the story. That's his official explanation. If you think it's ridiculous, you're not the only one.

My reconstruction of events: they've been trying for 11 years without success; they've been tested and he has low sperm count; perhaps they've already tried to use his sperm, but it's failed; he's refusing to use a donor's sperm, which makes her unhappy, but she's hopeful and won't press the issue; then, unexpectedly, her baby sister, 13 years younger, has a baby, and my mother is pushing 40; suddenly, she grows desperate and manages to persuade her husband to allow her to have a baby too; he agrees, but no one is ever to find out that he was the infertile one. She goes along with that. And much more.

He's NOT my real father?!

My aunt told me something quite interesting at our daughter's birthday.

Her mother (my mother's stepmother) told her that my mother had used with a donor's sperm conceive because my father was infertile. Now, my aunt says her mother was not the most trustworthy person in the world, but there's still a possibility that my mother's husband is not my biological father.

There are details that would corroborate this. I was conceived during their holidays, when they were both almost 40. My mother told me about my father's fertility issues once - low count (that doesn't suddenly get better with age, does it?). They named me after her aunt that allegedly helped with the procedure.

It would explain some other stuff as well. Like how come he resented me so much and wanted to appropriate me so badly at the same time. And how she would feel guilty and thankful about him accepting another man's offspring enough not to make waves about his fathering.

I have no way of knowing except taking his DNA sample without him knowing. I can't just ask a pathological liar, can I? My husband thinks nothing good can come out of taking someone's DNA sample behind his back. I don't know.

I only know I've started having fantasies about my REAL father.