house of bonsai: upping the ante

November 4, 2006

upping the ante

I found out from my brother J. last week that my mom began taking MS Contin, a morphine derivative, recently. After going to several of the larger Boston-area hospitals and being turned away (either because she wasn't emergent enough or because she's been red-flagged as drug-seeking --- who knows?), she descended upon second-string Cambridge Hospital, where they checked her in for a few days and sent her home with the MS Contin prescription.

My brother actually asked me to go into Cambridge to attempt to wrest this new scrip out of her hands before she got too hooked on it. After getting over the shock that J. would do anything so rash (or so involved; it's really not like him), my true feelings about the prospect came to the fore: "Um...no". What an utterly useless idea; she'd just go to the next second-string hospital and get another prescription that way. People just don't seem to look at wealthy, white, grandmother-aged women and think "drug abuse".

This episode followed on the heels of a visit she made in September to a doctor on Martha's Vineyard (apparently she went back down to the island, briefly. How, I have no earthly idea). She went to see one of the local MDs there, J. reported to me. This local doc renewed her prescription for Vicodin, originally written by Dr. C., her CFIDS specialist.

After telling J. about the refill, she said of the MV doc: "He shouldn't have done that". She is utterly aware that the trajectory she's on is negative, of course.

Every time I think "OK, *this* is what it looks like, watching someone spin out"...it gets worse.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...: Elise,

My narcisstic mother is also a prescription drug addict, though she will fly into a rage if you even imply anything of the kind. No, it's her "bad back injury" (after she fell off a backyard deck while drinking w/valium), and she NEEDS this medication. Her doctors are all the BEST and THEY ALL AGREE that she NEEDS a purse full of orange vials.

She wakes up sick every morning, and is high and wired every night. We have entire conversations that she denies months later. She will tell me she met Warren Beatty on the street one day, and a few months later, it was not Warren Beatty at all, bu Paul Newman, and I must be the one who is confused.

Anyway, the addiction throws a new and different wrench into the already difficult narcissistic issues. I don't see someone else dealing with the same problem with a parent very often, so I am so grateful for the internet and blogs like yours. I look forward to what you will write and thanks for letting me be a guest here. Yes, I'm also in Boston.; 10:38 AM
bonsai said...: So many "Anonymous" posters...

I wish there were some way to help me differentiate among you!

But in any event...glad to know that my blog is of at least some help to you.

Best to you,

Elise; 4:24 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

November 4, 2006

upping the ante

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