"To realize your mother may not be capable of real love or empathy is shocking."
       Will I Ever Be Good Enough?  by Karyl McBride, Ph. D.

Wow.  That's a heavy concept to understand.  To accept or even consider.

The idea that my mother might not be capable of real love?

They say sociopaths are not capable of it either, but they can pretend really, really well.  That's why people fall under their spells.   But a narcissist, too? 

They say that they don't actually see the concept of "others", but see people as mere objects to use as extensions of themselves. 

Wow.  Another biggie. 

That my mother might not even see me as someone.....well, that explains why its been 12 days since she's called. 

Yesterday he old best friend told me "Your mother loves you.  I remember when she hadn't even met you yet and showed me a picture of you.  I asked her 'How do you know you want her?'  And she replied 'Because she's beautiful'".

Because she's beautiful.  Normally, I might not see that as a strange thing to say.  But knowing my mother is a narcissist, it strikes me as strange.

Did she look at me and see me?  Or did she see someone who she wanted to be as an extension of herself? 

My mother lost a baby boy when she was 4 months pregnant.  I think she was too afraid to try to get pregnant again, so she pressed to adopt a baby.

And having a little girl?  I bet that just made her giddy.  To have a little "mini-her".  But little did she know, when she dressed me pretty dresses, I'd go get in the mud and play rather than twirl like a little princess.

And that's her nickname for me: Princess. 

I was never treated like a princess.  So what does that name mean?  The little princess she wanted to have, but got me instead?  I would see that name as a term of endearment, but she treated me so badly, I can't see it that way.

I just realized something, too.....whenever she remembers me being a kid?  She doesn't "reminisce" wistfully about rainy days and the times we spent playing dress up or house or tea time together.  (mostly because those things didn't happen) 

She remembers how I interrupted her on the phone.  She remembers how messy I kept my desk at school.  Or how I hated housework.  Or anything that was negative.  When she says these things I get seethingly defensive.  I think "Wow, did you hate me that much?"

But as it turns out, she just might have.  Love for them is like a light-switch: it can looked to be turned on when you are doing what they want you to do (bowing down to them, helping them, doing things for them, etc.) and it can be turned off just as quick as soon as you are not what they want you to be. 

If they do actually love: its the most fucked up love I've ever seen.  Its immature, its needy, its assholey. 

As it turns out, I might have been married to one in my first marriage, as well, but for right now, I am working on my mom.

So, to think my mother might be incapable of real love?  That also says "My mother is incapable of loving me".  That's just sad. 

But its not just me, she can't love anyone, herself included.  That saddens me even more.  When I think of it this way......it makes me feel better about not feeling abandoned by her....as its not me she's not loving, well, not me only.  But it makes me feel a bit more empty and sad for her. 

This brings me to the question: Do I love my mother? 

Yes, of course.

But that's a knee-jerk reaction to say.

If I really dig deep, do I really love her?

I don't even know her. 

A few weeks ago, I had come to the conclusion that my relationship with my mother was empty and void of anything real.  This was before I found out about her NPD.  I told people "I really feel like our relationship is superficial.  There is no depth.  We only talk about surface stuff.  There is nothing else."

But that's how she keeps me and has always kept me: at an arm's length. 

That's when I realized: I don't even know her. 

I know bits and pieces.  I know what she shows me.  What she wants me to see. 

But who is she?  Deep down inside, who is she? 

Who was she?  As a little girl, what her hopes and dreams?  When she she feel like a failure?  How did her parents deal with that?  How did they love her?  I have a vague feeling her own mother was a narcissist too, as my mother has let on to tiny little bits and pieces, but never a whole picture.

And of course if she wasn't in a mood to share, and I brought up something she'd said?  She'd deny ever saying it. 

That's the game I've played with her since the dawn of us. 

That's our game. 

My daddy would at least be honest with me.  He might have called me names and punched me in the face, but he'd never deny it.  He'd say he was sorry and maybe it it again, but he'd never deny it.

I think that's worse.  I've made up with my father, 12 years after his death in 2000.  Its been a year.  To be free of the pain he caused me, all that anger.

But the pain of my mother's abuse is just beginning.  Well, resurfacing.  I've always felt the pain.  Every day in our conversations and actions.  

But the idea that she can't love me?  Why?  Why me? 

My own birthmother gave me up for adoption just for me to put in a home with another mother who can't love me? 

That hurts.

That's kinda fucked up.

I am not a religious person, but I sometimes let myself feel there is a reason for it all.  That somehow I was strong enough to overcome this so I was given this life. 

But I know many who aren't. 

I just don't know. 

But for now, I will have to learn to accept the fact my mother hasn't, and will never love me.

But while that's pretty awful.....and I know once I start processing that it will hurt even more, I have to remember: she can't love anyone, not even herself. 

And its not my fault. 

Maternal love.  The one thing we should be able to count on. 

But instead, we have to learn to count on ourselves. 

And that?  Well, that's the story of my life. 

And I guess it always will be.