Asleep at the Wheel!
01/27/2014 § 1 Comment
Just before Christmas, I had a significant realization about my Narcissistic Mom that has changed how I think about everything.
It starts with a thought in response to the book/movie *The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.* Here*s this woman who is being sexually toyed with by her parole officer, so she brings to her next appointment a surveillance camera hidden in a bag she carries. He loses his moral compass and all-out rapes her, but she’s got it all on video. So she comes back to his place late at night, hogties him with cables and pullies, sodomizes him with a dildo, tattoos *I am a pervert and rapist* crudely on his chest, and then shows him the video and blackmails him.
Question: does he get the message? What do you think?
If it were me, I would feel monumental shameful remorse for having raped her. But then, I would never have done it in the first place.
There’s a trope in suspense books and movies where the antagonist goes on a revenge vendetta for being censured. The, *laugh while you can, Monkey Boy, but your days are numbered.* cliche. How many people really think like that? How many people would not drop the nastiness after being censured for doing something really awful?
I suddenly realized that my mother would not and does not drop the nastiness, but she does her nastiness passive/aggressively. Like she quietly told everybody in our family that I’m a violent pathological freak out to destroy her. Her retaliation thus was absolute but invisible. If she does something abusive to me, the best thing I can do is get the hell out of there, because no amount of pushback is going to make her see that she did anything wrong. I might as well kill her; any retaliation short of that will only make her escalate.
And that’s the realization I had. Trying to teach her to respect personal boundaries is like trying to teach a cat to read. Her decision-making process exists outside of time and space. She made all of her decisions long before I was born. Her impact on other people in present-time bears no weight at all on how she will respond to something. She once drove her car over my arm. Twice as a boy she whipped me with a wire coat hanger. She kept me away from Dad’s funeral. She manipulated my wife relentlessly despite my best efforts to stop her. And she doesn’t have an inkling that any of this is wrong, or that I should have anything to say about this. She’s got the brazen vanity to cry *victim* when somebody retaliates for something she’s done, and the chutzpa to enlist others to participate in her vendettas.
In summation, there’s nobody upstairs driving her. She sleepwalks through her own life, and only her designated victims get to see it. She’s not evil, because evil implies that somebody lives upstairs and makes choices. She makes no choices. She lives out a script that was made when she was a child. I think it was when her mother broke the psychic bond between her and her identical twin sister. I think Mom*s been a basket-case ever since, pretending to be a human-being, and fooling enough people to avoid treatment and care. She is terrified of treatment and care.
There’s an old, great science-fiction movie that sums up what I think about her, *The Forbidden Planet, the movie that starred *Robby the Robot.** A scientist, Dr. Morbius played by Walter Pidgeon, lives on an abandoned planet where he studies the technology of the people who used to live there, and raises his teenage daughter (Ann Francis) alone. Enter a surveillance ship sent to rescue them, led by a hunkish captain played by a young, straight-laced Leslie Nielsen. Ann Francis gets the hots for him, and Daddy gets jealous. Soon, crew members are being killed off by an invisible monster that leaves nothing behind but strange footprints. Finally, we discover that it was mind enhancement technology that Morbius was fiddling with; when he sleeps, his subconscious mind projects its enhanced desires, which turn out to be to kill all the pretty young crew members that have designs on his daughter. They called his subconscious projection *the Monster of the Id,* which pretty much sums up my Mother Banner. In the movie, they shut down the power supply that fueled the subconscious monster. Would that I could do that in real life.
This writing contains some of the most clear explanations of my situation that I’ve ever written about Narci-ssism, including many pet analogies I*ve coined over the years.
One of these days, I mean to write a piece about the inverse situation, that it seems to me that the 85 families that own 50% of the wealth in the United States are predominantly Monsters of the Id themselves. You can’t talk them out of their intentions to Frack and Geo-engineer and shut down national healthcare, and all the dumb shit they’re up to, because, like my mother, there is No One Upstairs. Stopping the freaking fracking, oil spills, pipeline spills, nuclear energy leaks, chem trails, war on Constitutional Democracy, systematic destruction of wildlife and habitat, etc; feels like sticking fingers in a dike against a tsunami of predictable destruction.
The real fight isn*t against the abominable environmental policies, its a fight for the souls of the professional Narcissists, Psychopaths, and Borderlines who have wormed their ways into the highest reaches of power, without the benefit of anyone driving upstairs.