Last year was my ‘first’ Mother’s Day…it was the day I decided to divorce my own mother.
I was 7 months pregnant and going down the internet rabbit hole of Mother’s Day clicky links when I came across an article discussing mothers with narcissistic personality disorder, which led me to Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers.
I cannot describe the cold chill that settled in my chest, or the sense of horrified enlightenment I experienced in that moment. Suddenly, everything made sense. And, just as suddenly, I realized that she would never change, never get better, and never be the mother I had always yearned for.
Apparently I have very high standards as a parent. This was a shock to me because I thought what I was doing made sense; I considered myself to be a ‘common-sense’ parent.
Why would you give a baby Tylenol if he wakes up screaming without (1) checking to see if he is hot/cold, (2) checking his diaper, (3) offering him a bottle, (4) walking around a bit first? How does this mean I have high standards?? The same woman who kept giving him Tylenol was also just plopping him in front of the TV if he cried. What?!
I discovered very quickly that anytime I needed to rush my son to get somewhere, I was gonna have a bad time. I found myself highly anxious and stressed, and that frustration brought my anger to the boiling point. Not only did I need to be somewhere, I wanted to meet my obligations so I wasn’t inconveniencing anyone else simply because I was now ‘a mother with an infant’.
Particularly if I am trying to him ready by myself.