The symptoms of C-PTSD and PTSD are similar and can include hypervigilance, difficulty sleeping or concentrating, disassociation, trouble regulating emotions, flashbacks, and negative self perception, to name a few.
When my therapist first brought up C-PTSD I was skeptical. After all, I never felt as though I had it nearly as bad as some. I mean I always had a roof over my head, clothes on my back, never went hungry and was told occasionally I was loved. It seemed like a stretch to assume I had a brain injury as a result of my childhood.
However, my feelings told me a different story.
It was a story of deep pain and sorrow. One that I could feel through every bone in my body. It felt as though I don't belong, like I'm not worthy of the air I breathe. I cannot pinpoint a single incident to explain this, but my memories are riddled with events to confirm this notion. It was never said, but it didn't need to be.
I was a supplier to my narcissistic mother for many years. When I was very young my role was to make her happy by allowing her to control most aspects of my life, say and do things she agreed with, listen to her problems and shower her with love and affection. So long as I didn't stray from this role, she "loved" me back.
As I grew, my role did too, though I took this as a sign of my increasing maturity. I needed to listen more as what she shared with me became more complex and adult in nature. I was to either agree with her or simply listen. She still wanted love and affection but only if she was mad at her boyfriend. If she wasn't, then I was to become invisible or the scapegoat so she could get her supply from him.
As I struggled with becoming my own person, we clashed constantly. Any form of self expression was a perceived threat and it was met with ridicule or ostracization. If I did things to improve myself, I was met with anger that was disguised as concern.
When I started living with my dad, our relationship settled down into a comfortable series of phone conversations. I was good at listening so handling her via phone allowed our relationship to progress in a manner which wasn't so invasive to my life. It wasn't until she asked me for a favor in which I could not fulfill that I really began to see her brand of crazy. I stopped calling her after a phone argument in which she repeatedly lied and twisted facts to make me second guess myself and make it my fault. We didn't talk for about 5-6 years.
Once we reconnected my initial reaction was how much she changed for the better. Little did I know she hadn't changed, she just got better at hiding her true nature. Shortly after our reunion our old roles began to surface. This consisted of me listening over the phone to the numerous problems she had, advising and agreeing as necessary. If I disagreed or tried to help in a manner that she didn't approve of, she became hostile.
Just like old times, the favor asking began again and it was obvious these favors were not obligatory and to refuse was to deny her of her much needed supply. My ranking as the wise and mature daughter plummeted to scapegoat status.
The trouble with narcissistic abuse is that it's subtle and cannot be summed up in a few sound bites. It's long term manipulation that's created by the victim's desire to love and help the narc. Deep down I knew this had happened to me but I could never express it properly. I still struggle with this but am slowly learning to trust myself.
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