Hi All:
Sorry so silent; been suddenly busy with pressing projects (lots of my clients never seem to know they need something until the last minute! Sheesh!). Have read all your additions from the last few days and feel like I really get a lot out of this thread and all your comments and stories -and just the general sharing.
Unfortunately, I'm still a little buried, but I wanted to share something:
I know it's been daunting for some of you to hear me stay relentlessly on-topic re: I Voice and all that. BUT - it has concretely paid off to keep my thinking on track and hone my ideas about it all. Some real clarity is being brought about lately.
This weekend, my husband and I had some fairly major breakthroughs about subtext and hidden meaning in our response patterns to each other. Of course, our problems are not solved, but we do understand things a bit better, which will give us the tools to more effectively monitor ourselves and each other for the "real" issues.
One that's been particularly tough for me (and him, too, in another way), is his way of shutting me out when I am down or distressed - in even a run-of-the-mill-way (too much to do, things piling up, me making mistakes and feeling overwhelmed - ordinary in a busy, changing life). If I even look a little down around the mouth, it can provoke reactions in him from simple dismissiveness to rage. Of course, this makes me more down, and he sometimes tends to "kick" all the more hard the more down I become. I then become even more depressed, and so on. It's very self-perpetuating, and ultimately the original issue (my feeling a little down and needing some support) gets lost in the arguments and heartache about the dynamic and is never addressed. The whole process takes a couple of months to go from mildly frustraing to horribly painful, and it repeats whenever I start to wear thin.
This apparent lack of empathy is one thing that has kept me somewhat fixated on the NPD aspects, although at other times, about other things, he can be very supportive and loving. Difficult to understand.
Sometimes, when he's in this hostile, bullying sort of mode, I find myself thinking that he doesn't know me at all - he talks to me and about me as if we have never met, saying things that are contrary to who I know I am. This is major source of conflict for us and depression/anxiety for me, especially because it is so at odds with much of his other behavior, priming me to withdraw and "act-in", as I learned to do as a child.
After all this ruminative "self-training", it finally hit:
He really isn't talking to me, nor raging at me, nor talking about me at all. I'm not even really part of the equation, not as a discrete individual.
He's talking, raging, screaming and aiming bullets at his Mother.
His mother became depressed when he was a kid, to the extent that he lacked food (once had only onions for an entire week), did not go to school, lived in a cabin in Maine (Honorary Canada, for you Europeans) in winter with no heat, no electricity, no running water. In addition, she was not emotionally available to help him work through his grief over his parent's divorce, nor would she allow him to see their father (who just gave up and didn't really try all that hard), refused child support, did not get welfare or food stamps, did not work - did not try. She gave clear signals to my husband that she could not be approached about his fears or complaints, either. Long, sad, story.
We talked about this extensively over the weekend, even discussing whether he might be re-creating the scenario (tearing down my defenses against depression, so I could be HER) so he can finally express his anger and hurt that she would allow her depression to interfere with his ability to even EAT, let alone feel like a valued human being and a loved child.
He talked about how he has always felt that I was powerful and could do anything I set my mind to (usually true under good conditions, then I am bull-by-the-horns pragmatic), and that he alwyas has felt safe with that as his mindset, and how if I show cracks in my armor he thinks he does re-visit that emotional place of fear and helplessness that was his childhood.
I, too, was able to look at the way that I withdraw and stop being fully competent and involved in my life when I feel that my needs and feelings are being overlooked and dismissed, the way I'm really responding to my mother's rages and insults and abuse, how I cannot stand for an angry adult to be within 6 feet of me or I'm at risk of shrinking out of the picture altogether, sinking into a pit of self-hatred so deep I can't see light, so great is my fear of being physically hurt (he has never done this) and emotionally shredded. Basically, this is me "beating (them) to the punch" - kicking myself into a small ball FIRST, a way of maintaining my own control over the situation (obviously flawed, but functional for the survival of the child that I was).
In a sense, we are better equipped to help each other than anyone else - but equally, if we are not careful, we can inadvertently push buttons all over town - never really knowing that's what we're doing until we're in crisis mode and we're forced to examine it . I feel fortunate that he can examine these things with me from time to time. While not ideal to have to wait until it's out of control, at least the discussion eventually happens and things "right" themselves for a time, until it's time to uncover the next kernel of truth.
It was a very emotional weekend for us in this way. I'm a little drained and taken aback by the intensity of it all, but I'm feeling much more hopeful - and a bit more like living my life with some enthusiasm and concern (lacking lately).
Thanks all for listening.
T
(Thank you Bunny).