Mothers can be manipulative narcissists

Days have been dull, and they have been like this for a while now. It’s not like my state of mind over the decade has been kind to me. I have never felt such self-doubt and my indecisiveness, the lack of patience and the will to take any action or hold a stand. It’s even quite challenging to maintain a clear train of thought. I realized, a pleasant Saturday morning can be ruined really quick by your mother screaming over the phone, demanding that I come over right now. It was a relief I was not present to experience the tantrums first-hand, but I was familiar with what was going on. I feel for my father. It’s a harsh reminder of experiences from nearly 10 years ago. I’ve lived through two years of this daily, crazed fights. An argument with my father is what triggered this weekend’s incident. It’s almost certainly an overreaction to some petty issue, that escalated into an out-of-control, rabid screaming and her playing victim. This is the strategy of a manipulative person who wants things her way. More importantly, she wants to know that she’s entirely right in demanding things her way, and the means to getting them are just. The idea of me considering a Hindu girl as my wife, meant I’ve dealt with the screaming, shouting, physical attacks, manipulation and mental abuse. Growing up, I took these as normal behavior since I knew no better. Being the only child and an introvert possibly stopped me from ever questioning it, or asking anyone to intervene. I’ve held on to my code, of being honest, nice, accepting of everyone. Today, I’m none of that, and it bothers me. I’ve kept away from everyone these years and that kind of loneliness messes with your head. Though I followed an unconventional education and career path, I was fortunate it left me with some form of success and stability. It was enough for me to finally get out of my shell, gather all my optimism and hope, confide in someone as dear as my ex. She was quite possibly just as naive a person as I used to be and in the same phase. We had dreams. To have that kind of trust and faith shattered by a threatening, menacing, insecure, narcissistic, and selfish woman, has left me with nothing today. Any form of positivity and interest has long left, let alone self-respect. What’s to lose now? What’s to celebrate? A typical confrontation with my mother during those years would be when I reached home from work. My mother would scold and taunt me, with a stern stare, then go through my wallet and bag while I freshened up. She wanted to know if I spent any money on ’that girl’. When I finally sat down after dinner, sitting quietly and going about my time, she’d confront me. A jaw-grinding grin, eyes wide open, a fist-shaking would be first, then some nasty taunts directed at my ex, on the lines of “Oh, you want to do this? You think you can….” to bouts and claims that I wanted to humiliate my mother. Things would progress to telling me that I should leave and go, that I’ll be all alone in a year, and that woman of mine, will cheat on me, run off with someone else, and her family thugs will come and beat me up. The fist shaking and teeth grinding often worsened, and it would be in my face, with grunts and worse. I’ve been spat on, I’ve been kicked in my face in my sleep. I’ve retaliated at times and I’ve cried. It’s a surreal feeling to experience this from a grown-up woman, and a mother. I say my mother is a narcissist because I’ve seen her transform from that vehement woman to the opposite, when the phone rings or someone rings the door bell. She turns into a feeble woman who’s being harassed by her son. She’s quick to call an uncle, or her brother, or a friend, crying, telling them about how old she’s become and no one cares for her, and how terribly we treat her. That fake empathy in her voice even today is absurd to see. Opportunities to mock and berate someone are never left unused. Some arguments turn into her flailing her arms about, falling carefully to the floor, crying, acting like a possessed person and acting unconscious. After calming down, she would get back up again come back with her fist clenched and shaking in my face, repeating what she’s been saying. I have seen this routine and its forms every other day for nearly two years. I told my ex about the disagreements and resistance, but I don’t think I could have expressed in words, what was happening everyday, and how I was being treated. I felt, exposing my ex to it, might have made her feel unsure about me. I thought perhaps, everyone would come around and things would work out. I thought time is all I needed. Opposing my mother’s wishes, meant living a life of utter rejection, uncertainty and abandonment. I broke down eventually, I chose to detach from my ex, without any discussion, explanation or without any closure or a goodbye. I gave that person my word, and I did not stand by it. I had never done that to anyone before. I genuinely wished she’d never have to see my mother’s behavior. I felt like she deserved better and that we were just a terrible family. I punished myself for it by closing myself up. I’ve never asked people for help. As the only child, an introvert, asking for help doesn’t come naturally. It makes you anxious. You think you can handle everything yourself and  that you’re worthy of only the things you can achieve yourself. Ten years on, I think I feel hurtful regret, I didn’t ask my ex to help me, or her sibling, my cousins, or my uncles or the few friends I had. I kept it all a secret, and it haunts me to this day. Since then, my outlook has changed. I don’t see the point of anything. I don’t see the point of my ego or pride. Who am I doing any of this for? What’s the point of growth now? What’s the point of any form of success? Few things offer temporary distractions. I don’t want money. I don’t want to fight anyone at work to prove a point. I don’t care if I can do something better. I let people get their way. I don’t complain and I have few demands. I thought my mother would be supportive once I broke things off. She didn’t help find a single proposal in those  5-6 years while I faced rejection from her grand and proud, Christian community. My mother tried to sabotage my wedding day, and the engagement. She’s chosen to throw tantrums in the hotel room, screaming that she would not attend. She behaved in this manner, on the day of the wedding. I ask myself, if I had to face these situations on my big day anyway, why did I not go through with it with my ex? I’m a fool. My mother is a person who truly cares for nobody but herself. The wrath of her demands are to be borne by those closest to her. This is a person with no code, no concept of honour, hard work, integrity, honesty or self-respect. My mother now plays the calm and content mother image now. Her life appears sorted, talking on the phone, laughing yet complaining about everything that ails her. I find all of it disgusting and insulting because I was made a fool out of, the one and only time I chose to voice what I wanted to do with my life. I have taken the blame and carried the guilt of her decisions imposed through me towards my ex. I have had to face the guilt of situations with other people. It’s why I don’t sleep as well, and why I spend every unoccupied moment feeling sick and uncertain about the point of anything. People don’t think highly of me anymore. People think I’m arrogant, rude and inactive. My ex thinks I betrayed her. I’ve lived a state of social limbo since 2012, distracting myself with dumb things and the world has changed. It’s like everyone’s so happy, and jolly, and worked up about everything. It’s quite tiring trying to act like everything’s wonderful, and how happy I am. The truth is, I can’t be happy; I try to be content to maintain basic civil sanity. So when people ask me to participate in their joys, I want to avoid all of it. It’s a stark reminder of everything I had and wanted. I do not know what I ought to celebrate. I honestly feel like I’m mocking myself and dancing about, like a fool that I am.