#I am Not a woman by anymeans but the word daughter will always be carried with me

[gwagwagwagoogoo]

I realize most folks really don’t understand what it’s like to be a victim of narcissistic abuse especially from a parent

when I was in therapy my therapist would always insist that I try to fix things, or bridge the gap, or give my abuser a chance

but like that just wasn’t possible when every other time I had given this man so much leeway and chance, and each time I get messed up and twisted

my therapist once compared to me a growling dog, saying how in this metaphor no one will approach a growling dog or give it a chance. you wouldn’t want to approach a growling dog and always spoke about how it took two people to make a relationship (parental, platonic, romantic. Any) work

But I always asked him why am I risking myself getting hurt to give him a chance like I did so many times. He would just say that to me, it wasn’t his intention but his advice had made me get closer to my abuser time and time again only for me to reel away like I always do and cut contact

He wasn’t malicious but I don’t think he ever understood who my father was, truly, and thought he was just a flawed man when he was more

And I got mad, so mad, and when he inadvertently ‘called me a dog. A growling dog. That no one would approach, that my father would not approach his growling daughter. So I said ‘we’re both growling dogs’ he snapped at me as much as I snapped at him, but I was his child and he had raised me to bite and growl when he raised his hand

I didn’t talk to my therapist after that, ever again, I had already quit therapy by that time and he was generous enough to let me talk to him one more time. He had helped me a lot, truly, but the one subject we’d never see eye to eye on was my father and abuser

He had offered to bring in my father multiple times so we could talk, and I had always been skittish and afraid of it I would recoil like a trapped animal, because he was a charmer. He knew how to make you feel good, he knew, and there was always a fear in my gut that he’d be able to even charm my own therapist. He tried to reassure me, that he was there for me, but I could never risk it

He would always insist I be the one to talk to him, try to settle things with him, apologize. I have done that, and yet nothing had changed. I tried to give him an inch, but he turns it into a mile and I am trapped in this cycle where he makes me feel good and important, and then leaves and leaves me confused and fogged. He tells me he loves me, that he’s such a great father and that no one else has a father like him, I should be so happy and so glad, and then he’d insult me, hurt me, and snap at me. At a certain point, I just gave up

I wanted change, and none of this was going to yield it and I was frankly sick of acting like the adult all the time. Apologizing for his childish behavior in public, apologizing to school staff because he would yell and scream at them. He got me kicked out of the vet and I was nearly not allowed back in when we had to euthanize one of my cats because he yelled at a receptionist so brutally she cried and had to leave work. I had to learn how to temper his tantrums or he’d get fed up and leave, I had to learn how to try and minimize the damage he would cause to others and me. Whenever I’d tell him, even for simplistic things, to stop doing something he would just brush me off and deny me. Or say my words weren’t my own.

He would hold things over my head, berate me, corner me. Make sure I couldn’t physically leave, until I apologizes to him and had to bow my head. Block out doorways, creep up my stairs with heavy stomps, not answer when I ask ‘who’s there?’— always on edge when I heard someone stomp, stomp, and they didn’t announce themselves. Because he’d corner me.

I was a child, I don’t think I could’ve ever changed this. But ever since I was a child, I said the same thing. I don’t want contact, I don’t it, I don’t want him in my life, if he wasn’t my father I wouldn’t even have known him. I am repulsed by him as a person, I am disgusted by his actions, and I hate him. I love him too, as my father, but I have never hated someone so deeply in my heart ever before. He was my first, and I hope my last.

He has hurt me in a way I don’t think others can’t, I think he was my first heartbreak, and he was my first taste of acrimony

He still hurts me, even when he is not present for it, and can send me into an uncontrollable haze and fog. It is terrifying as it is frustrating

No one can hurt me as much as my Daddy has, and no one can retch as much hatred— and pure venom— from my heart as much alike my Daddy can

Tl;dr: Narcissist abuse fucks u up lol

#I am Not a woman by anymeans but the word daughter will always be carried with me #I am his child and his growling daughter #it is not a word I hate but it’s something I can be without being a woman #Made myself cry before work El oh El