house of bonsai: 2003: hotel california

August 15, 2006

2003: hotel california

In the spring of 2003, she went out to visit the Monastery on California's central coast that she has enjoyed so much over the years. Even though she's not a Catholic, the monks there have been very kind to her and very open to varying points of view, as they make something of a specialty of the study of comparative religion. I visited once a few years before, and while I'm not into organized religion (and man, are they organized!), they were a wonderful bunch of people who seemed very caring. The foggy coastal mountainside setting wasn't too shabby, either.

Anyway, she spent a few weeks at the Monastery, living in her little hillside trailer, joining other retreatants for meals, going to services, etc. As I've observed in her before, when she is around people whom she respects and who have some basic expectations of her (like getting dressed and having regular meals), she seems to do well. I have expectations of her, but I don't qualify regarding the "respect" quotient; those monks have that God thing as their ace in the hole, those sly dogs!

She was to fly from San Francisco back to Boston, but first there was a shorter flight from Monterey to SFO. She got a ride to Monterey from one of the monks, and checked into a hotel there for what was supposed to be a one- or two-night stay.

She stayed for nearly six months.

After three or four months, as soon as my spring break began, I flew to California, rented a car, and drove to her hotel. I knew that if I called first, she wouldn't have agreed to my making the trip, so I just showed up. I'd talked with her on the phone and determined she was just stuck, plain and simple. I checked into a room of my own and went to see her. She was happy to see me; actually, she seemed really touched in a genuine, non-narcissistic way. I suggested to her that we should get her packed and she should fly back with me to the East Coast; I could stay two nights.

She hemmed and hawed and made all kinds of excuses, but just wouldn't. None of her explanations made any sense; she just wouldn't. She was immensely agreeable about it, and deferential to the effort I'd put in, but...she just wouldn't. There was no reason for her to be in Monterey, particularly. Her hotel didn't even have a view of the water; just the sad little kidney-shaped pool. She wasn't well enough to travel, even with assistance, but she didn't feel like she needed imminent medical care. Mostly, she seemed to be spending a lot of her time keeping track of how many days she'd been holed up in the hotel, how many painkillers a day she was taking, and watching way too much CNN.

She just wouldn't.

I drove back to SFO after calling my brother J. for the fifth or sixth time in two days (he was following my trip with interest, and had been supportive of my making it).

I would have been shaking my head at this point, but I think I had kind of transcended head-shaking by now.

3 comments:

elizabeth said...: You've written a lot so far Elise!I just started my Blog a couple weeks ago. It is slow going because I usually cry for hours after every post.

As you also said, I hope it helps me let go of the memories.; 2:18 AM
bonsai said...: Thanks, Elizabeth.

Actually, at this point, the time I feel *least* like crying is when I'm writing. It feels far more proactive than just sitting there say "Wow, what a screwed up situation this all is...and there really isn't jack I can do about any of it". Except try to keep my own head straight, that is.; 5:15 PM
elizabeth said...: "Keeping your head straight" reminds me of a quote from that book "People of the Lie". "Mental health requires the dedication to reality at all costs." A good thing to remember IMO.; 12:56 AM

how to navigate this blog

Welcome!

First, please read the "first post, August 2006", further down in this column. It sets the context for everything that follows.

Then, please click on the labels section and go chronologically. Sometimes I'll write about a memory about something which happened a long time ago, so going by the dates the posts were written isn't the best way to read the blog. Occasionally, a given post that is relevant over time will have several labels applied to it (1970s, 1980s, 1990s). But overall: stick with the labels and it will be a lot clearer!

Thank you for being here, and for reading.

Note: some names have been changed to preserve privacy.

first post, August 2006

Recently, it's come to my attention that I have a challenge to meet, a life-altering decision to make: can I continue to have contact with my mother and still hold onto my integrity, my sanity, my serenity?

My mother (who at her best was at one time glamorous, brilliant, interesting, eclectic, and self-absorbed) has morphed over the past years and decades into an unrepentant, myopic, full-blown narcissist. She turns all conversations back to the topic of herself, thinks nothing of the true welfare of others (although she sometimes pretends to do so for short periods when it serves her), and can never take even partial responsibility for any of her actions or inactions. "I am sorry" is a phrase which never falls from her lips...never.

Everyone has bad times and bad luck, but in her eyes, her bad times and bad luck are always worse than anyone else's. She's been "going through a hard time" from the years of my earliest memories, at age 3 or 4, more or less non-stop up through today. Her reaction to others putting up healthy boundaries (in my case, very late in life) is to fly into one of her legendary rages. She also cannot take responsibility for the fact that her actions (and inactions) have been prime contributors to the very negative, sad, isolated place her life has now become.

Her friends, subjected increasingly to her incessant self-focus and self-pity, have been abandoning her in droves, finally tiring of the asymmetric nurturing she requires of all those around her. This trend has put even more pressure on me, in recent years, to be there for her, as one of her last remaining contacts. And now even I am throwing in the towel, going against every ounce of socialization I've received (as her only daughter) from her and from society at large.

Because one of the primary methods of a narcissist is be at the center of attention (whether positive or negative, sometimes it doesn't even matter to them) and to have others see life through their distorted point of view, it seems that children of narcissistic parents can really bear the brunt of this disorder.

It seems that it is only now --- after 40 years of life on this earth, a decade or more of escalating attempts to help her with her never-ending, chronic-by-design problems and issues, several recent severe crises due to my overextending my and my partner's energies to try to help even more --- that I am able to even look at the history, the issues, and for a sane path out of this dark thicket of her pathology. I attribute this growth to increasing self-esteem and resiliency, due in no small part to a wonderful partner and friends, as well as some therapy.

Merely telling my friends "she makes all conversations into brochures about herself" or "she can't apologize" doesn't even begin to illustrate the true depth of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. If I sit down to chat and tell these ridiculous stories over again with various friends, particularly in enough detail to give even a fraction of the full picture, it will take up too much of our potentially much more pleasant time together.

At the same time, I do want those who are close to me to understand what it is that I've experienced, on whatever level they're interested or have time for --- from skimming a post or two to reading more extensively. Much of it will come as a surprise, precisely because of the fact that the sheer oddness and inappropriateness of her behaviour leads me not to bring it up in polite company. It's all too weird, too complicated, and too unsavory to discuss within the context of an average dinner with friends...

Perhaps most importantly, these memories have been living in my head for years, and I've been holding onto them almost like a set of worry beads, a template to keep in mind in case other narcissistic people try to enter my life, so I can run in the other direction. Since, in her absence, I'm finally beginning to trust my judgment a bit more, I think I can safely begin to let these memories go, to let them fade a bit --- to the best extent possible. Writing them out, I'm hoping, will go a good way toward accomplishing that "letting go".

Whether you're an old friend, a treasured colleague, or someone whom I've met and bonded with through the online ACON community, I welcome your comments and cherish your ongoing support and friendship.

house of bonsai

August 15, 2006

2003: hotel california

3 comments:

Followers

Search This Blog