Poor Little NF

I have my father's childhood photo album. He is not interested in having it, I am.

One of the first pictures shows him as a chubby, happy, smiling baby. In the next picture, he's pouting. In the last, he's weeping.

The cute story behind it? He was such a happy baby and always smiled. They had no photos of him crying. So they shouted and yelled at him and told him he was a bad boy until he broke into tears.

So cute, right?

In the next several pictures, his smiling grandpa is letting Little NF ride him. When I asked NF about his grandpa, looking at these photos, all he had to say was, darkly, "He was a strict man." It sounded eery. Wasn't he a darling, playful, sweet old guy? I mean, look at the pictures! Apparently, far from it.

He had lots of people to teach him how to stage a perfect family photo shoot. How to manipulate reality and emotions. They started when he was an innocent little baby.

He was sweet then, you know. I feel perfect love and empathy for that poor little baby in that old photo.

My doll and me

This is the four-year-old me, holding my poor Nameless Doll.

It is one of the rare photos my father took in which I'm not posing for him with a dutiful happy smile. I'm being me, unaware of being photographed. I wonder why he took this picture and why he scanned it and gave it to me. Perhaps to prove how happy I was with the doll he'd bought for me.

This is the doll I hated for being so dull and needy. The one I brutally spanked but then held in sorrow and despair. I remembered her again and wrote this:


A sad doll
Plastic, cloth, and dullness
Too hard, too soft
Stuck up and cold
Weepy and needy
Whipped, beaten, kicked
Then thrown away
She stays there all alone

Picked up again
Held

Because I have no one else
To hold

If I could have that doll again


I remembered, in the past several days, the delicious solace of hugging an inanimate object. It is a comfort I don't remember being able to get from my parents.

I finally made a real connection between the doll and myself. I used to feel so sorry for what she had to go through, but felt nothing for the child - who probably went through the same - because the child was boring, annoying, whiny, needy, unlovable (and had it coming) and she was also cold and tough (and could easily endure it).

My Evil Strategy

That's right. I've devised an Evil Strategy. It's my first ever.

If my father asks why I haven't humored him and sent him the photos he requested although I've already said "no" to him, here's what I'll say:

"Oh! You were serious? It sounded like a joke."

This is not a lie. And it's not a justification. It's showing him how he's coming across. If someone sends you a total of 17 photos as a result of your constant pestering and then says "I don't know what else to send you," it's only logical that your "Send me all you've got" reads as a joke.

I guess I started thinking about Deborah's suggestion that I behave like his own narcissistic mother would, and that caused a paradigm shift in my thinking. Suddenly, the question occurred to me: "Why does it always have to be me on the defensive? Justifying myself? Thinking of ways to prove I'm not being mean? Is it absolutely forbidden to put HIM on the defensive if he deserves it by behaving in a clearly abnormal way? It might actually not be forbidden. Wow."

Am I evil?

There is no "no" in Narcissese...

... is there? The photo situation is not resolved and I was gonna ask you how I can translate the "no"s I've expressed to him into language he can understand... but it's impossible.

There is no "no" in Narcissese. When they want something, they won't understand politely phrased "no"s. They'll refuse to.

After another, more polite request for photos, after which my husband remembered we had a few other pics we could send, I sent him three relatively lame photos, one of which didn't even include us - it was a landscape.

Now he texted me, asking for MORE.

I said "I don't know what else to send you. I'm not like you, I don't take hundreds of pictures every month."

Was that a "no"? Or did I hallucinate? I thought that meant "no" - I'm not sending any more photos.

His response?

"Then send me all you've got, even if it's only 10 photos."

Google has a suggested search "telling a narcissist no" which I used. The search, however, yields no actual practical advice.

The question exists. The answer doesn't.

Do you have one for me?

Enough!

I've been very busy lately doing a simultaneous/consecutive interpreting gig at a seminar. I leave home at 8AM and come back around 6PM and have very little free time and am tired when I do, which is why I haven't been writing here regularly. You understand, don't you?

See, my father refuses to. He intentionally and maliciously refuses to. Because he wants photos from our seaside vacation! Several days ago, he asked for our photos. I have a feeling that having our photos is a control/ownership issue for him, but there's not enough rational reasoning to not let him have any at all, so I sent him 9 photos.

Then he asked for more in an email, saying he was so lonely and missed us so much. The next day, he texted me with the same request. I replied that I'm not even at home and that I'm working all day, every day. He then wrote to request that my husband send him more photos, just so he could see our dear faces during his lonely days. This nauseated me, but I sent two more. Then another sickeningly sweet plea for photos came. Now I waited a little, and then sent two obviously bad photos, hoping he'd understand the message - this is basically all you're getting, and I'm just barely being polite now.

Our Internet package means sending just one photo takes several minutes during which time you can't surf. So, it's a real time commitment. Also, but I didn't tell him this, there are pictures I'm simply not giving him. I sent him official, posed family shots, which I don't mind sharing with anyone. I'm not sending the really cute, real ones of my kids. 

Then I received yet another email today! He's sure we're very busy. But surely we could find time to send him more! And he's certain we have more pictures than we sent him!

How pushy can you be? How can't you get that enough's enough?

My husband says this is now just insane behavior and I should just ignore him. I'm kind of scared to just ignore him, because I know that will piss him off more than anything. I don't want to justify not sending any more, either, because I don't have an obligation to share our photos with him. I'm considering sending him a photo of our car or the view from our balcony, but it might be too much tongue-in-cheek, especially since he'll probably see the photos eventually.

Suggestions? How does one communicate to a narcissist that enough's enough without being rude?

blah

So I forwarded my father some birthday pics that I received from my ILs. Mostly, my aunt and I wanted to conduct an experiment to see how quickly they ended up with her and with what message. But, also, I didn't want to be a bitch. Unnecessarily.

His response to me was profusely sugary. He's been signing everything with double messages of love since I stopped signing mine with our usual family signature that included "love".

Sure enough, my aunt was sent the pictures immediately. His message to her stated that "My girlfriend asked Pronoia to send us the pictures so she did". Does this mean that Pronoia should have sent pictures without being asked? Or that if he'd asked, she wouldn't have sent pictures? My aunt probably gets the version of our relationship in which I'm a cold, ungrateful daughter, which is why it was phrased like this.

I wonder why I keep thinking what he's thinking and expecting him to be fair and think well of me if I'm being fair and nice to him. Expecting him to acknowledge I'm being nice to him despite his unkind actions. That's not how he operates.

I fee like upsi's latest post must be meant for me. I feel reproached from both sides and I don't know what I personally want. I want to enjoy life with my family and think about nothing else right now.

I sent my father some beautiful pictures.

My main motivation is purely scientific curiosity. It enables me to conduct an experiment. I wonder if my aunt - and all the others he keeps in touch with more frequently than he does with me - will be forwarded these pictures and in what manner. I want to know how he uses pictures and other information he gets from us. My aunt is as curious as I am.

Secondly, he has made a much better attempt at communication today. He sent me an email personally, in which he forwarded all the birthday photos he'd received from my aunt, followed by just a little polite and sugary chit-chat. This is an improvement. It felt kind of normal and sane to send some photos to him in response. Like something members of a functional family would do too.

I feel like I'm rambling. I haven't slept in 40 hours. I couldn't fall asleep at all last night, I kept imagining we were being thrown out of our apartment (we're just about to begin a phase of acute and costly redecorations, which will truly make it the perfect home for our family).

If my father indeed has a network of acquaintances in front of whom he badly wishes to appear as a doting father and grandfather, and for which purpose he asks me for information about and photos of my family, this is actually good news. Throwing us out of our home would not sound good to them.

I don't know why I feel like the weak one here. We have an agreement according to which I use his apartment, and he uses mine. They have the same market worth. My weakness, I guess, lies in the fact that this apartment means something to me and my family and that we've invested something in it, financially and emotionally. And I know that narcissists will sometimes take away something they can just because they can and because you want it.

No more rambling. Off to sleep. The big apartment project starts with its realization first thing in the morning!

Another Flying Monkey Air Raid

I just got a very disgusting message from my father's girlfriend.

First I'll quote it in its entirety and then I'll shred it to pieces.

"Pronoia, how are you and what are you doing? How are the children? When are you going on holidays? I haven't been working too much. Only two or three days a week. The two of us are getting along quite well. It would be nice if you'd send us pictures from the birthday party. Greetings to all."

My comments are green:

"Pronoia, how are you and what are you doing? How are the children? When are you going on holidays?

This is my father's voice here. The "polite", impersonal string of random questions that mean little and that could have been directed at any acquaintance and that show no interest in the answer.

I haven't been working too much. Only two or three days a week. The two of us are getting along quite well.

Red alert. Among the small talk, I see what's going on here. Before they went away, she'd complained to me about the horrible abuse he'd been subjecting her to. I listened and validated her and told her, when he wasn't listening, that she could write to me any time for support if she had problems because I understood. She must have told him about this and he must have seen that we were getting too close for his taste. So, obviously, he turned his charm back on with her, and is once more the good, gentlemanly boyfriend to her, which makes it possible to enlist her as a flying monkey in his battle against me. I'm flattered. I must be a worthy opponent. He's being nice to her AND he wants me to know that.

Actually, I'm lying. All this is hurtful and painful for me. But I'm not a wimp, remember? I'm a warrior, etc. I'm hurt both by his behavior (expected) and hers (not so expected; but should have been; after all, she's with him despite knowing she's being abused: why would she think the role of a flying monkey would be beneath her if she lets him get away with far worse?)

It would be nice if you'd send us pictures from the birthday party.

And there we are. Right at the end. The only reason for this message (she never writes to me; there's no need to; I barely correspond with him; she communicates with me only in her Flying Monkey role). He wants the photos of the birthday party of the birthday girl whose birthday he never congratulated us on because he was sulking. It's beneath him to ask. He probably thinks they are his due, and is offended I hadn't sent them myself. It would be nice if I sent them - and it's not nice that I haven't sent them. This is not even a request. A request is: "Would/Could you please send us pictures?" What (s)he wrote here is a thinly veiled reproach: You haven't sent your father the pictures from your daughter's birthday and that's not nice! 

These are his words, written in his style. I don't even want to necessarily accuse her of participating in this, before I ask her. It wouldn't surprise me if he was the one writing these messages. She might have just let him. Or not even that.  

Greetings to all."

Again, I don't know what to do. As soon as he gets his hands on the pictures, he'll send them to all his "friends" to prove how he cares about his daughter and his granddaughter. I don't mind that too much, as he's not on FB or anything, these are just private emails, and the only unpleasant aspect of that is that it was difficult for two persons of mutual acquaintance to believe me at first when I "came out". They were sure my father loved me so much. But it didn't take long even for them to See.

I don't feel he deserves the pictures from the parents of the birthday girl to whom he didn't have the decency to congratulate the birthday in the first place. I was going to keep quiet about that, because I didn't want to acknowledge that I was hurt or even noticed this. But he knows what audacity it is to be asking for the pictures now. Which is why she's the one asking. My husband says "Just send the photos to her". Which might be just the appropriate response.

What do you think?

More fun correspondence

I actually missed some of the fun correspondence my aunt forwarded me.

It's very moving for me. Very. When she told me about it, she sounded more offhand about it, but her reply to him was so meaningful to me on so many levels. I realized she actually really stood up for me in the whole business, like my own mother never did. I realized she's not afraid of him, like my mother and I were. I realized my aunt probably actually really loves me. This is something astounding for me. I'm actually crying. I've never felt so strong. There's a real person who really loves me. Even though my father accused me before her. It made no difference.

So here it is. My father apparently asked for photos from my daughter's first birthday (which he didn't call to congratulate her on because I'd failed to inform him of my safe arrival). Presumably she asked why I'm not the one sending him the photos, to which he replied:

"I can only hope to get these photos from you.

Pronoia forgot to send me a message with only two words: arrived safely.

She will see when her children grow up, and then go somewhere, how she'll worry if they arrived. She doesn't understand that children remain children for the parent even when they grow up and become parents themselves. To them they are always just their children."

Yup. That says it all. JUST their children. Who belong to their parents and must obey them or face horrible consequences.

Notice how the first two sentences are supposed to be connected logically? Pronoia forgot, and therefore I can't get photos from her? Because, of course, I'm punishing her by never speaking to her again. Naturally!

She replied:

"Come on, N,

Whoa, you're heartless!!!! (this is difficult to translate - it's actually between "heartless" and "hard on someone" - in this context, it sounds like a semi-jocular reprimand, so I went with "heartless")

I understand well the forgetfulness of "children" because it reminds me of my own youth a lot. (so grateful for the quotation marks here)

My own children are like that too.

Unlike you, I never wait.

I call.

I recommend you do the same - if you worry, call her :)"

This is so refreshingly honest, direct, and sweet.

I couldn't help thinking how angry he must have been reading that. But there's nothing he can do to her.

The email I quoted in The Saga was a reply to this. Inadvertently, I pulled an in medias res on you. The fun part, in this new context, is his explanation of why he didn't just call: he won't call me to make sure we're safe and alleviate his worries, because he doesn't want to "bore" me, BUT he'll never speak to me again, because that's acceptable? More acceptable than "boring" me? It's OK to never speak to your daughter again and not congratulate her on her child's first birthday on purpose, but it's not OK to "bore" her with a short phone call? Does he actually believe he's fooling a single human being?

Picture Perfect

Jonsi nailed it. The post is brilliantly perceptive on many counts, but what really struck me was the observation made after a feverish photo-session of her newborn baby daughter by her NMIL that "she cared more about the photographs, than she ever would the people in them".

And there it is. The light-bulb moment that's been long coming. My narcissistic father's obsession with photographing people is about the photos. Not the people.

The people are there merely as objects of control, manipulation, and ownership. We are possessions. Or, perhaps even more aptly, we are prey, and the photos are his trophies. 

I've never seen my parents' wedding album. My father has promised to give me those pictures, which he keeps in the apartment that he's renting out. Nothing so far. He says it's just an envelope with a few photos anyway.

I've never seen a single picture of my parents together before I was born (well, conceived). They dated for 10 years and were then married for 12 more before they had me, so you can understand my confusion.

But there are 18 big albums full of photos that my father took of me during the first dozen or so years of my life. I only went through them once, when I was really, really idle. The pictures were just plain boring.

I used to think of those albums sitting on top of my bookshelf as irrefutable proof that my father's love for me was great, if somewhat disturbing. Those albums meant that whatever I did and felt for my father was bound to be insufficient and just plain ungrateful.

At one point, I rebelled against being photographed all the time, and also became intractable in other ways and just not as interesting any more, so the incessant photographing ceased. I have very few photos taken within the family after age 12 or so. The photos I have are ones I took with my own friends.

Then my mother died and my father found a new girlfriend. The obsessive photographing commenced once more. Album after album after album of his girlfriend, posing in front of different rocks or trees or buildings. The pictures don't get shown to many people. They seem to serve a different purpose. They imply ownership. Possession. Control.

They are also documents, evidence of his loving, caring ways.

Recently, my father became interested in my childhood pictures again. So he selectively started scanning some of them and giving them to me, portion by portion, in digital form. The latest installment was delivered in a solemn, official, gala setting, where they had to be seen by my entire FOC with his running commentary.

For the first time, I saw these pictures for what they were. And I felt sorry for that lonely smothered controlled little girl in them. No family or friends or people having fun together. Just me, isolated from everyone else, playing alone somewhere outside, where he'd lovingly taken me for a looong walk "with him". But he only smoked and took photos of me during these outings. I was really on my own. "This is you, smiling. Look how happy you are!" "This is where I took you to park x. Park y. Park z. The zoo." "Here you are petting a dog. A cat. A goat. Look how happy you are!" "Here you are climbing a tree. Playing in the grass. Playing in the sand. Look how happy you are!"

The only times there were other people in the pictures, it's his narcissistic FOO, posing around me with big, fake, eery smiles. You can see Little Pronoia's not buying it and her body language indicates polite efforts not to flee from these creepy people who pretend to be close to her.

When I went to my ILs' the next time, I told my husband: "Give me an album. Any album." He handed me one. "This is what a family album looks like. Look. Fun moments. Funny moments. People enjoying their time together. Celebrations. Get-togethers. Not a trophy pet child objectified incessantly through the lens of the camera. And serving as documented proof that her father was perfect."

Picture perfect, in fact.

But I'm free. My father recently came to see me on my birthday. He then sent me photos from the "party". There wasn't a single picture of me. He already stressed this fact in the subject of the e-mail, which went something like "Photos from your birthday without you in them!" His girlfriend later explained that the pics with me in them turned out all blurry. I guess he didn't want to give that explanation because he thought I might feel sad or hurt by the very unexplained absence of my photos and interpret this as being out of his favor. He was probably disappointed with the lack of such a reaction.

But I did have an emotional response to this. It was one of relief. I was no longer his focus.