Narcissistic Rage

I was reading this and it triggered memories for me. Memories of my father throwing things, screaming and yelling, breaking things...and the abject terror it caused my brother and I, and my mother too.

Wow.

I was reading this and I got to the part where she brings up childhood and that what you learned about being abused as a child affects your adult life. It got me thinking THAT didn't happen to ME. I love my parents. They weren't abusive! So I skimmed those parts of the book and kept reading.

It hit me. My father was emotionally abusive. He was funny and kind and loving and adored us...but when he was angry, we all ducked and covered. And his sarcasm cut like a knife. You didn't want to be the one he was aiming it at. Anything from a bad driver to a young girl walking by chewing gum with her mouth open would set him off.

I remember once he was replacing a toilet that leaked and he bought a brand new one. Big porcelain bowl and all, and if you've ever tried to lift one of those, you know it's heavy. He was replacing it by himself and I just remember hearing a THUNK! Pause...then a slew of every curse word my father knew (and he knows them ALL) started flying out the bathroom door down the hallway and through the house like a black cloud of terror, causing all of us to lay low and quiet. Have you ever seen a dog when he knows he's been naughty? That low to the ground, no eye contact body posture? That's how we would react. Be invisible and the rage can't see you. Tools started flying out the bathroom door down the hallway and the dog was running for cover.

I don't remember much after that, but my childhood is filled with happy memories mixed with incidents of screaming rage that ended when my mother decided enough was enough, for more than the emotionally abusive reason I won't go into here now, and filed for divorce.

To this day my father loves my mother, my brother and I dearly. He royally pisses her off, though I think she may still care for him too.

I have talked to my mother about not really remembering a lot of my childhood and it used to disturb me. We moved often because we were Air Force brats and I just figured between losing friends, moving schools and being severely introverted was the reason.

Now I realize it's probably because there are a lot of painful memories I repressed. I'm not sure if I want to pursue it or not. I'll have to think about it.

It's weird and amazing the things I'm learning about myself through self help books, Prozac and writing this blog. Introspection is not something I was able to do a lot of when I was in the trenches with Ex, because I was working so hard to pretend everything was ok and that I could fix it all. I'm getting back into the swing of it. Having the kids with me every other week, though it's painful to me to miss so much of their lives, has the mixed blessing of giving me time to find myself again and relearn how to stop constantly preparing for explosions and disaster.

It's a long road.