This time I got it right! (or did I?)

The mobile phone on the front seat was beeping and flashing as I was pulling out of my parking spot in front of the office on Fifth Avenue in Delray. I had just turned on my satellite radio as Elton John was singing. It was obvious he wanted to perform a duet. When that occurs, we turn the volume up high enough, so Elton does not have to worry about me outperforming him.

The timing was perfect. Guitars and drums just beginning, “Da Da Da. Da Da Da. Da Da Da. And again. Da Da Da. Da Da Da. Da Da Da.

It’s getting late have you seen my mates
Ma tell me when the boys get here
It’s seven o’clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

My old man’s drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady she don’t care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
A handful of grease in her hair

Oh, don’t give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Oh, Saturday night’s alright for fighting
Get a little action in

As the two of us are about to hit the high note I reach for the phone. It reads, “Mom.”

“Shit. I can’t talk to her later. Hi.”

“What’s with all the noise?”

“Hang on. Sorry,” I say as my right hand reduces the volume.

“Steven? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Elton John just begged me to sing with him. It’s fine. He can wait.”

“Oh, you’re not alone? I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can call you back.”

“Mom. On the radio. Ya know, like when you hum along with Sinatra.”

“Oh, Frank. Where have you gone? Listen, do you wanna go to the club on Sunday for Mother’s Day brunch?”

“Seriously? With me?”

“Well, your family. I thought Alex would like it now that he’s eating solid food.”

“I’m not sure that a cheese omelet and bacon fall under his new diet.”

“Why not? Once you guys started on solid food, we were feeding you from the table.”

“Kinda makes us sound like the family dog and you were sneaking us scraps.”

“Well that’s what it was like.”

“Is Ellen coming?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Knowing my family was invited to such an elaborate event at The Polo Club of Boca Raton meant my sister and her family were being entertained later in the day.

When The Narc figured that part out, my life would be Hell. Why? She did not want my sister and her family there but it would be a perfect argument for me. Yet if she were there, that too would be fodder for loud and late night discussions!

This was May of 2004. There were things in my life which had become apparent.

The Narcissist Will Infect Everyone I Know

My mother and I could speak when my wife was not around. (Unfortunately, I could speak with nobody, when my wife was around).

My wife and sister despised each other. This was prior to my revelation that my wife despised EVERYONE in my life. It was also prior to understanding my sister was out for blood. (Mine).

We purchased a house in Boca Raton a few weeks before Alex was born. The reason, I was told by my wife, was so we could entertain my family on holidays. (Yes, even Mother’s Day). Never happened.

“I think I’m entitled to the day off on Mother’s Day. Why can’t your sister do it? I’ve done enough for your mother, why can’t she do it? When your sister entertains, your mother brings everything. She brings us nothing and I do not feel like spending all that money on your sister.”

Stop talking to your family behind my back

The Narc would look at my phone at the end of the day and check who I spoke with. She will wake me up tonight demanding to know why I spoke with my mother at six o’clock when I supposedly was too busy to speak with her.

The Narc would fall sick whenever I made plans with my family.

When The Narc played the sick card on the day my fifteen-year-old nephew flew into Miami from California two years earlier, that queasy feeling in my stomach arose. I gave her aspirin and went off with Alex. (The plans were made two months in advance).

She was pregnant and the doctor suggested an amniocentesis due to her age. He gave us several dates for the procedure after explaining that rest would be important the next day.

He suggested Friday so she could sleep late on Saturday. When I explained that we had plans to go to Miami, the doctor said Monday (which was no problem. The Narc did not work).

Her forehead furrowed into an agonized frown. The Narc said that Friday would be fine, and I need not worry about seeing my nephew. She would be up to it.

Winner! Winner! Chicken Dinner!

I was too naive, stupid is a better word, to see it was a setup, just like everything else she was attached to in my world. I stand corrected. The Narc did have a job and she was damn good at it. She would do and say anything to cause angst in my world if she knew it meant something to me. The point was to prove that she was more important to me than anyone. The only way to accomplish it was to start an argument that would fester into a raging inferno and blame me for yelling, although she would be yelling louder than me. She needed that control.

All hell broke loose on Saturday when she said she was in excruciating pain and I had a lot of nerve to even think about leaving her alone. (She planned this Friday night and I walked right into it).

In The Narc world, she hit a grand slam. Bases loaded. Out of the park. She told me she would be fine. I had a queasy feeling that she would not be fine but she knew I was too scared to say Monday would have been better. I could not stomach the yelling that would have accompanied the drive home from the doctor. CONTROL!

After calling my mother to tell her we would not be attending I was told I could go. The next hour was filled with insanity as I packed Alex a bag and placed him in his car seat with The Narc screaming at me that I had no right to leave her alone.

She called as we drove down to Miami, during lunch, and finally as we were walking on the beach demanding that I come home. (She managed to throw in how much her father, sister, and friends were all shocked that I would leave her alone after such an ordeal).

The way back was a phone called filled with expletives that I was unaware she knew, at a decibel level that rocked the car. When I tried to hang up, the screaming became louder.

Unfortunately, my stubborn nature eventually eroded

You see, a sophisticated narcissist doesn’t explicitly forbid you from spending time with those important to you. Instead, they might charm these people, and utter noncommittally, “She’s cool, I like her.” But when you’re sleepy and therefore suggestible, she’ll say things like, “Oh, your best friend, she’s shallow, I’m not sure how good she is for you.”

I witnessed firsthand how she dined, laughed, and hung out with my friends, before turning to me and saying, “You’re not to hang out with them. Your friends are juvenile, and you don’t need them. You have me.”

Energy Vampire

But as I said, I was sleepy (for the rest of my marriage). I was unaware that she was draining my emotional energy. She would feed on my willingness to listen and care, leaving me exhausted and overwhelmed.

You cannot overreact. You must remain cool, calm, and collected when dealing with an energy vampire. Losing it can cause her to do the same and make you feel worse about yourself.

So, what do I do? I fall for it every time. She sucked me in, drained me about some nonsensical issue, and then gave the classic, “Don’t blame me. It’s not my fault.”

You are alone

I was isolated. She cost me a job working for an old friend and mentor and had put nails in the coffins of my relationships with my older brother, a good friend in Connecticut, and a tremendous friend in Wellington (a few miles up the road). The fact that she was beautiful, independent, and smart may have added to the conclusion of that one.

Of course, at the time I was aware of none of this. Her desire was for me to be alone. The more she pulled me away from my family the more she was able to control my character, thoughts, and behavior.

She could make me believe whatever she wanted in my now isolated conditions because there was no one around to tell me otherwise. There is no one around to validate or correct me. I began believing whatever she wanted me to believe. She was shaping my behavior/character into whatever she wanted it to be, thus giving her full control.

She wanted no one to believe me. It was now set up so my family, friends, and associates no longer wanted to be with me. She put a tremendous amount of effort into that because she wanted me to be alone.

She was jealous of everyone I knew. Anything I shared with her in the past was going to be used AGAINST me. She loved turning people against one another. She then wanted to be the savior. It’s like pouring gasoline on the house, tossing the match, screaming fire, and then reminding everyone that if she were not there, they all would have perished.

The Dilemma

“So why did your mother call you and not me? It’s common courtesy to ask the daughter-in-law what she would like to do? But of course, I’m ignored and we’re doing what you want. Everything is behind my back.”

I knew she wanted to go to brunch. There was no way she could ever pass up a buffet of sausages and bacon, egg and tuna salad, a carving station featuring deli, and an omelet station featuring four eggs and peppers, onions, deli ham, cheese, and a number of other ingredients.

I also knew that for whatever reason, the past three Mother Day celebrations were complete nightmares. In retrospect, every holiday was filled with issues. Not the usual someone forgot to go to the bakery and pick up dessert issues.

No, this was the, “It is so uncomfortable being here, I can’t breathe” scenario.

Oh, you don’t believe me?

My brother flew in from California with two of his children. My mother invited us along with my sister for a Friday night dinner. While eating dessert, it was apparent plans were being made for the next day.

My sister made the plans with my brother, leaving us out. When I asked about it, he said there were no plans. She said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

My teenage nephew tells me that everyone is going to Fort Lauderdale on Saturday, “But they don’t want you or your family.”

My posture stiffened. I stared blankly while I cursed up a storm in my brain. The spreading of my fingers and placing my hand across my chest stopped me from saying outwardly what I was thinking.

I made my family my life. MY FAMILY. My sister and her kids. My brother and his kids. And here I was, after all these years with a son of my own and being thrown down the long flight of steps, black and blue, into the abyss.

Suspecting it is one thing. Hearing it makes it real.

When the Narc said she was leaving I was in a heated monologue berating my sister. I was saying the things that I had been thinking for the past few years. “After everything I have done for you and your family, you treat me like this!”

I heard the words my mouth was saying but wasn’t sure why I was saying them. The Narc didn’t care. Somehow my thought was once the I Do’s were spoken, my job was to stand up for my wife, even if I didn’t believe in anything she did.

My bigger curiosity was as my sister, “Why don’t you have my back? I’ve done enough for you to have earned that much. As for my brother I knew his only concern was getting stoned and money from my mother.

It took The Narc to show me how little regard my family had for me?

The Narc divided my family (that’s what they do) and they had no reason to help me. They saw it as an opportunity to move on without me. Two people in a will beat three people in a will. I was too busy defending myself to see it happening.

The truth of the matter was that prior to meeting the Narc, I self-medicated. Not just excessive drinking or pot smoking. There were the late nights at work and over-giving to others (constant gift-giving to all nieces and nephews). I was alone trying to deal with the trauma inside. I was self-abusive, defective, and self-loathing, hating the person I saw in that reflection.

The Narc interrupted long enough to demand my car keys, place Alex in the car seat, and speed away allowing me to finish my diatribe and not caring how I would get home.

Now I had her

But now…now…I had her. Brunch. At the club. No family members other than my mother. I could take a deep breath. I could exhale. I could relax. This was my game winner. This was the bottom of the ninth, three men on, two outs, full count, down by three, deep to left. It’s a home run!

But it was The Narc. Everything I did with her was a disaster. Everything. Of course, she always helped. The ball may have gone over the fence but it was called foul.

If we went out to dinner and were asked to wait, she would start an argument with the woman at the hostess stand taking reservations. We were okay for five minutes. After that, I began to feel sorry for the hostess. In later years as my sons watched her do her magic, we had a conversation.

“Hey Dad,” my younger one said while turning our attention to The Narc who, for the fourth time, walked to the hostess stand. “It’s a good thing the hostess won’t be our waitress. I think she may spit on our food.”

The older one turned back to the football game we were watching at the bar and said, “I think she’ll walk into the kitchen and ask which one is Mom’s. I think we’ll be fine.”

But this…this is my mother’s club. Wake up. Shower. Drive.

What could go wrong?

I had to ask. Mister Cocky.

If shopping with coupons and timing were an Olympic event, the United States would crush every other country. Oh, what do I mean by coupons and timing?

“I bought two outfits on Friday,” she tells me as I walk from the shower to my closet.

“With my Kohl’s card, Kohl’s cash, the Mother’s Day sale, and door buster sale they offered if you shopped between nine and nine fourteen, I saved over sixty one percent.”

Military operations do not require this kind of precise timing.

“Oh, um, yeah. Great.”

“Maybe you should look at it. It’s such a cute dress.”

“Great. You look good,” I replied poking my head out of my closet.

“You didn’t even look. You don’t care. Well, I bought another outfit which might be more appropriate.”

“You look fine, honestly. Let’s get out of here in five minutes. I told my mother we’d pick her up.”

“Excuse me. Why can’t she drive there? And you’re going to look at the other outfit thank you.”

I was shocked. A woman was about to undress in front of me and instead of excitement all I felt was fear, hoping she would not yell.

She put on the white pants and matching jacket, which was lying on the floor, apparently, she had put it on several times previous to modeling it for me.

“Looks great. Ready?”

“You don’t care. Once again, all you care about is you. And of course, your mother.”

“You look fine. I mean that white outfit is really flattering.”

“I don’t know. It was marked down a little, but it was not on sale and I had no Kohl’s cash for it. If I keep it and wear it, I cannot bring it back. But I did prove I purchased it at nine-thirteen, ahead of the nine-fourteen cutoff, which gave me twenty-five percent on top of the eight percent is was already marked down.”

“You look great. Let’s go.”

She was staring at the full-length mirror on her closet door. “I don’t know. Maybe I should try on the dress again.”

She made her move to take off the jacket when I said, “I really like it. Very summery. You really look great.”

“I don’t know. Fine. You can put Alex in the car. Okay?”

Karma? I don’t know.

We drive the ten minutes from my house to my mother, standing on her driveway. I put the car into Park, open my door and walking around the front of the car, I wish her a Happy Mother’s Day, with no gift to present to her. (“I am not getting your mother a gift. And you are not to get her anything behind my back.”)

I open the back door and watch her greet Alex and look at the expression on The Narc’s face.

“Oh brother,” I say to myself. “You will hear about this later. She couldn’t greet me, she’ll start, and it’ll lead to four other problems.”

So Far, So Good…But wait, there’s time.

I’m holding Alex’s hand as we walk into the lobby of Polo. My mother confirms her reservation as a young woman with a South Africa accents says, “This way please.”

There is still time. I see the buffet. It is now ten forty-five and I am starving. I am so ready to overeat. The first holiday since we are married that The Narc can’t complain.

My mother, Alex, and I get up after ordering coffee and head for the salad buffet while The Narc walks to the omelet station.

My mother is now holding Alex’s hand and a plate. “I’m gonna give Alex some bacon and how about some turkey?”

“Great,” I say as I am loading a plate with bacon, sausage, and chicken salad. “I’ll come back for waffles and an omelet in a few minutes.”

“Steven, haven’t you seen food before?”

“Not like this. I need to pace myself. I don’t plan on eating for the rest of the week.”

As we are walking to the table, I see it. Since it has nothing to do with me, I try my best to focus on the best holiday I have had in years.

But God heard me. He saw things going a bit too smoothly and he made his move.

My mother helps Alex into his seat while I place my plate on the table. As I sit, I take a sip of coffee and hear the dialogue.

A man who appears to be a few years older than me is irate as he and his party are standing in front of their table. “What do you mean she has to leave?”

Another young lady from South Africa confronted the member. “Sir. I’m terribly sorry but Polo has instituted a policy that is in effect starting today. No denim in the dining room.”

The woman in question I learn is his sister. The denim she is wearing is a jewel encrusted dark blue denim pants suit. Her hair was coiffed perfectly and her jewelry seemed to rival that of the Queen of England.

But this supervisor was having none of it. She said that her job was to implement this rule, not explain it. There were to be no exceptions or warnings. “Sir, she simply has to go home, change into something more appropriate, and return. There is no need for everyone to leave due to one slip up.”

The member is livid. His language is coarse, and he is dripping with perspiration. “My freakin’ sister lives in Fort Lauderdale. Changing is not an option. Why the hell are you ruing our Mother’s Day.”

“Sir, I’m terribly sorry. But rules are rules and she will have to leave.”

As I am cutting into the first of my four fat sausages, I hear him.

The guest turns and starts browsing the room. His focus turns to The Narc in her white pants suit walking with her omelet, stuffed with as much as one can stuff and a side of bacon.

He is studying her outfit. Upon realizing his suspicion was correct he turns back to the woman before The Narc can place her food on the table.

“Okay. So how come that lady can be here? Look. Look. She’s wearing denim. You just can’t tell because it’s white. If my sister must leave, then this lady has to leave.”

And there it was

Onto my second bite of heaven, chewing with a smile and thinking about what I was going to fill my omelet with when I gauged my plate of high cholesterol.

My mother is feeding Alex between bites of her chicken salad. She is paying little attention to the commotion.

I look up. I start shaking my head as I understand my day is about to turn from ecstasy to misery.

I put down my fork and reach for my napkin before pushing back my chair and standing.

I look at The Narc’s pant suit. The crazy guy was correct. It was denim. I start hearing those voices in my head, “She wanted to change but you said no. This is your fault. Of course, it’s my fault. Things were running just a bit too smoothly.”

Then there is another voice. “Stop whining. If she changed back to the dress, there would have been a Mother’s Day rule, created upon us entering, saying no dresses allowed.”

Before I could open my mouth, I saw every table was now focused on the area in which I was standing.

The cute South African girl walked over to The Narc. She eyeballed her jacket and pants. She looked up and said, “He’s correct. I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave as well.”

The other guy is now screaming. “We are not leaving. Who do you think you are? I am a member.”

The Narc is staring at me and shaking her head.

Somehow, she is blaming me for this. But I figure there are people in the world who would know the proper way to handle this circumstance. My dad came to mind. He would ask for the manager and walk him into the lobby and diffuse the situation.

“I can do that. I know I can do that,” I thought as I approach the cute girl.

“Hi. My mother over there is with our son. She is the member. Can you please take me to the person responsible for this?”

I meant for her to escort me to the manager of Food and Beverage Services. A Dining Room manager, perhaps in the lobby. Not the lunatic who just fingered my wife.

She walks me a few steps to the man who is now as loud as I have ever heard anyone inside a Polo Club event.

“He complained about your wife and he is right. She must leave now. There are no exceptions. No denim allowed in the restaurant sir.”

“Okay, first of all, you are choosing Mother’s Day to implement a rule like this? And she is appropriately dressed. But I meant I want to see the…”

“If my sister must go, then your wife has to go. You gotta problem with that? Well? Do ya? Because your wife definitely doesn’t belong here.”

I have no idea where to go from here. This guy just insulted my wife. I know I should stand up for her. But I can barely stand up for myself.

I looked over at my mother who continued to feed Alex. I started thinking that this would be one hell of a story at dinner with my sister and a phone call to my brother later in the day. Somehow it would all be The Narc’s fault.

With all eyes fixed on me, The Narc had her moment to sparkle. She looked at me and said, “I will wait in the lobby. You and Alex finish. It’s fine.”

This confused me. She did not want me to finish but she could make it a big story later plus Alex seemed to be enjoying his brunch.

As she started to walk away, the situation was diffused. The guy threw his hands in the air and said that he would take his family elsewhere to celebrate Mother’s Day.

My mother’s friends who had witnessed the scene walked over and told me to bring The Narc’s plate out to the lobby. Upon my arrival, The Narc, true to form was giving the women behind the counter an earful.

One of the hostesses looked at me. “Sir, you cannot take your food home with you.”

“Well, your hostess just banned my wife from the dinning room. I thought perhaps she could take it to go.”

My sarcasm was lost on these two young women, also from South Africa. But it was not lost on The Narc who took the plate, walked to the adjacent coffee table and sofa, and began eating, making certain that all arriving guests noticed her.

Between bites she could be heard saying, “Feel free to call the police.”

I mumbled, “You mean the fashion police.”

She looked at me, continued eating, and began speaking with a woman waiting to be taken to her table.

I walked back in knowing that in some perverse way, The Narc was in heaven. She was the center of attention, plus she could tell me how I ruined her Mother’s Day… again. And the sad part was that I had nobody to call and talk to about this.

The Narc had no friends but she would call her father and then her sister. While I had nobody to tell or discuss it with, not even my mother for fear of the argument that I was paying no attention to The Narc, I was happy that we went home and Alex and I could go swimming. I was isolated.

What is the narcissist’s isolation?

The state of being in a place or feeling alone, leading to feelings of loneliness, depression and anxiety.

It’s like I said, narcissistic people isolate you from others, so they have more control over you, as you only have them left to go to for reality checks. They will invalidate your thoughts, feelings, and efforts, so you feel unworthy, so you never feel enough. You become unable to trust in others with a narcissist’s many manipulation tactics including triangulation, where they play people against each other to divide and conquer, they will put you down, so you work harder to please them, they will cause arguments, so you walk around on eggshells trying your personal best not to set them off. They do it so the narcissist is the only person you can turn to for support, not understanding they are the ones trying to destroy you.

Captivators, use withholding any emotional support, and a ton of criticism, followed by no emotional support. You are a hostage, and you need to find a way out. Or if you’re out, you need to stay out.

Even if they don’t move you miles away and isolate you from support, they’ll put you in a state of emotional phycological isolation, where you dare not speak out for so many fears, from sounding stupid, to being misunderstood, overthinking to doubting reality from all the cognitive dissonance that occurs while in a narcissistic relationship.

When you’ve been isolated from friends and family as they blamed your parents or your friends, for the problems in your relationship, or moved, while in that idealization stage they convinced you to move miles away from those who love you. When they have done this, and you’ve got no support, they can manipulate further with the silent treatments and many more controlling mind games.

Being denied emotional support when you so desperately need it feels like your soul is dying.

I learned years later that there is no winning with a narc. Ever. If she wanted a Lexus and I bought it, the price was too high. If she wanted a watch and I bought it, the band would be too big because I should have cared enough to measure her wrist. And if I grilled chicken for dinner, it would be overcooked or undercooked which could give her botulism and kill her.

In each case, she could never be satisfied. Her only goal was to let me know how miserable I was making her.

As for karma, I could never surprise her or make plans without her knowing because God was watching. He got me at the Polo Club and every day thereafter until she became the ex-narc.

How did Polo end?

The next day a gourmet food basket was sent to us and my mother. My guess is that the poor, rude man also received one.

The manager called my mother and apologized to his long-standing member. He fell ill on Sunday and the young women from South Africa misunderstood the denim strategy of no ripped jeans in the club dining room which had been in effect since the club opened but never implemented).

And in keeping with The Narc tradition, upon receiving the basket filled with exotic cheese, gourmet fruit, and red wine, she said, “It’s Polo. They ruined my Mother’s Day. I think they could have splurged for champagne and the top of the line basket.”