"Narcissists make deplorably bad parents..."

From a person who wishes to remain anonymous:

The purpose of writing my personal story is to clarify that narcissists make deplorably bad parents and hopefully my story would shed some light on the hidden pain and silent suffering of biological children of narcissistic parents. Eventually check up narcissistic personality disorder for more information of the disorder itself.
 

I am a 24 years old female born and raised in Europe by Pakistani parents. I am a HSP(highly sensitive person) while my mother is a full-blown narcissist and my father the perfect enabler.

First time I considered committing suicide was at the age of 6, because I felt unwanted and unloved. My mother was obsessed with controlling every single aspect of me: opinions were attributed to me long before I was old enough to even have them, I was forced to wear the Islamic headscarf and the traditional Pakistani shalwar kameez at the age of 7 so that she could receive praise from the Pakistani community - although she knew that my appearance would make me an outsider at school. One of the worst things I could do was to smile on a day she was in bad mood – then she would beat me up and swear at me to ensure that I felt as miserable as she did. Sometimes when she had a bad day, she would suddenly call me in and begin beating me up, just to feel better. 

Once at the age of 9 I had made the terrible mistake of showing interest in a hairstyle which she disliked and as a punishment I was publicly humiliated for several weeks until I broke down in tears, begging her to stop. She perceived me as an extension of herself rather then another individual. She would always compete with me and my siblings: if my father kissed me and my sibling’s goodnight, she would be standing outraged at the door with the words: ‘you always kiss THESE bastards, but you never kiss ME!’’ and as a result my father stopped kissing us goodnight. It was always like she perceived her small children as her ‘’peers’’ to compete with for attention and love. In top of all that, parentification took place: Shortly after my 8 years old birthday my mother delegated all household chores to me including cleaning and cooking and declared that from now I was responsible for pampering her, to look after her emotional well-being and happiness, comforting her when she was upset and protect her from danger, and she would constantly remind me that I failed to meet these responsibilities of mine. 

She would frequently play us children against each other which created hatred and resentment among us, and until this day we don’t have any real relationship. My mother always called me in third person and never by my name, she would every second day remind me of how much she hated me, that I was a burden and that she regretted not having opted for an abortion, that she wished me death and that I was ugly and stupid. When I was bullied at the local mosque (which she forced me to join) she would immediately take the side of the bullies although she didn’t even knew them. No matter how good grades I got at school or how much I tried to please her, she was never satisfied and absolutely nothing was ever good enough for her.

When I reached puberty at the age of 12, I (for the first time) insisted on wearing shoes of my own choice instead of those which she had picked for me, and that made her declare me for being the black sheep of the family. I got beaten unconscious with a cricket bat, but when even that didn’t made me wear the shoes of her choice, she came up with a gun to kill me. Fortunately, the police intervened, and I was removed to an orphanage by the child protection service.

My father was the perfect enabler. He witnessed what his wife did to his children, but he never intervened. If we complained to him about her, he would always take her side and claim that we were the one ‘’provoking" her. It always seemed to me as he was a mental slave of her.

In the orphanage I removed my Islamic headscarf and found great relief in finally being able to look and dress like other children. At the age of 18 I got a job, bought my own apartment, finished college as an excellent student and began studying at a prestigious university. Although I was now free and successful, the damage my mother had done to me began showing its effects: I suffered from constant self doubt, felt insecure, and found huge difficulties in trusting myself. As I was from birth trained by a narcissistic mother to have no needs and to be a people pleaser, I became an easy prey for a criminal female psychopath who ruthlessly exploited me, which increased my mental problems further. I also suffered from a constant guilt without knowing why, and the guilt lead me to visit my mother once in a while, and every time found her devastated for not being able to have power and control over me anymore. The solution, according to her, was that I moved back into her house, which I politely refused every time and every time she would in response begin crying hysterically blaming me for being selfish and arrogant by not caring for her enough and by spoiling her reputation by being western dressed.

She would also play victim in front of her friends, and they would frequently blame me for not honoring my mother. Later when I experienced a series of unbearable anxiety and panic attacks , as well as showing complex post traumatic stress disorder symptoms and paranoia, I was forced to search for answers, and finally learned about personality disorders, and realized that my mother was a narcissist. After receiving a degree in Bachelor of arts I thought that finally my mother(who is uneducated) would realize my worth so I decided to make a last attempt to reconcile with her: I offered her forgiveness for all what she had done to me, if she would just admit that it was wrong of her to attempt murdering me when I was 12. That made her roll with her eyes with claims of me being ‘’oversensitive’’ and that I was the real villain for having spoiled her reputation as I had allowed the police to intervene when she ran after me with a gun. Then I changed the subject and asked her if she was proud of me now when am doing a Master of Arts at a prestigious university. In response my mother said that she had nothing to be proud of as it was a mystery to her how I got admission at the university to begin with as I was the stupidest person she had ever known, and thus she was absolutely sure that I had received my degrees by providing sexual favors to my teachers. I broke down in tears and begged her to stop her horrible accusations, while she had this smirk on her face in satisfaction over having ‘’put me on my place’’. When I heartbroken left her home that day, I suddenly realized that she would never change, and her emotional blackmail would never come to an end. When I reached my place, I texted her a message asking her not to even dare contacting me anymore as I from now on didn’t wanted to have anything to do with her. 

Today – several month later - I am still fighting anxiety, paranoia and depression but by cutting both my parents and their useful idiots completely out of my life, I have taken the most important step towards healing.