house of bonsai: my mother, the non-racist

May 7, 2008

my mother, the non-racist

My brother J., visiting my mother in the hospital during her February 2008 stay, witnessed the notoriously non-racist*, ecclectic*, worldly* woman having the following conversation with a black hospital orderly. He found it so entertainingly off-base that he actually jotted it down:

MOM

What country are you from?

ORDERLY

The USA.

MOM

You immigrated?

ORDERLY

I was born here.

MOM

You were born here?

ORDERLY

Yes...

MOM

Oh, that's so wonderful. So many of the cabdrivers I meet are Haitians.

* via self-report

5 comments:

Anonymous said...: Elise, happy to see you, I wish you would blog more often.

Your story reminded me of one from my past that I will never forget. It was the year when the movie Ghandi came out, the one with Ben Kingsley. My mother saw the movie and raved about how amazing it was, how everyone had to see it, what an important film it was for everyone to see.

She added to me, for emphasis, "you should have seen what it was like in the theater. Even the "lowly blacks" were all there, just staring up at the screen."

She was so caught up in the drama of describing her experience that she let this one slip through. Never forgot that one. No matter what else my mom ever claimed in her life about how open-minded she was, I always knew what was there, deep down.; 4:25 PM
bonsai said...: Hey Julie,

I will have a lot more time to blog after about May 20th or so. Work is insane just about now.

Very interesting abouto comments that slip through...thanks for posting.; 6:48 PM
Anonymous said...: Hilarious story! It's great to see you blogging again.

Does narcissism always equal racism? My mom is awful about that. Countless embarrassing and rude remarks.

Your story reminded me about a time we went out to eat with my mom. The server was a woman with an unusual accent...strong but easy to understand. My mom, Miss Bubbly, of course had to ask where she was from (Russia).

At the end of the meal, as we're getting ready to leave, my mom said, "Keep up the good work on your English."

The server looked stunned, and said, "I've been speaking English since I was a child."

Soooooo embarrassing!; 6:59 PM
Nina said...: Elise,

It's soooo mortifying to be around your parent when they say stuff like that. As hard as you try to say...that's them...it's coming out of HER/HIS mouth and I'm not responsible...one can't help but feel it reflects on you.

You know those sayings? Like father like son? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree? We can't help but feel tainted.

In my father's case it's so ironic...because he's a very dark man. You'd think he'd be more empathetic w/other people of color. Instead, he's as racist as if he were born under a Confederate flag in the deep South instead of a Mexican man in East LA!; 2:17 PM
Anonymous said...: I read that post and laughed out loud hysterically! My mother would have had a similar interaction. One of the funniest things I remember my mom doing was bragging about giving something to drink to a black woman who knocked on her city house door. The woman was asking for food and what does my mom give her? A caffiene free diet coke! She thought she was being such a good samaritan. I mean, really, the soda had no calories, no caffiene. But my mom thought she was freaking mother theresa. I am sure there were racist comments thrown in there, too.; 12:02 PM

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

May 7, 2008

my mother, the non-racist

5 comments:

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