Embarking on a voyage of self-discovery during the pandemic, my anxiety and depression surged, turning my life into a chaotic mess. Small panic attacks and nightly unraveling post-kids' bedtime led to binge eating in a desperate bid for energy. A year into this destructive pattern, with a 60-pound weight gain, I acknowledged the undeniable link between my eating habits and stress, realizing I needed professional help.
Enrolling in a behavioral health program offered by my clinic, I began with medication management to address heightened symptoms. Having battled depression since college, I'd been on medication for 20 years, adding anxiety medication in my early 30s. Moving through various psychiatrists in adulthood, I encountered a new one who strongly advocated for therapy alongside medication to combat my escalating depression and binge eating.
Despite a history of mental health struggles, my mother's dismissive stance on therapy lingered, emphasizing medication management as the sole solution. However, my escalating weight gain prompted me to seek comprehensive help. In therapy, I confronted my deep-seated belief that caring for my mother was my sole responsibility. The therapist's revelations, like "it isn't your responsibility to take care of your mother" and "you are not supposed to be her only emotional support," initially felt seismic.
These seemingly straightforward statements challenged years of ingrained guilt and obligation. My mother, with minimal external connections, had made me the linchpin in her life, leveraging her health concerns to manipulate my unwavering support. Wrestling with the question of why I felt responsible, therapy became a transformative space to unpack and reevaluate my longstanding beliefs.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my therapist, who became the catalyst for a profound realization. The flicker of a lightbulb sparked my quest to unravel the mysteries of my mother's behavior. Questions lingered like shadows: Why the constant need for control? Why does her happiness seem perpetually elusive? It was in these introspective moments that I began to unearth a startling truth – I had been raised by a covert narcissist.
The therapeutic journey unveiled a history of manipulation, guilt-tripping, and gaslighting that stretched back to my childhood. The therapist's insights acted as a compass, guiding me through the maze of my past. I started to connect the dots, understanding the subtle ways in which my mother's actions had shaped my beliefs and perceptions. This newfound awareness became a powerful tool in dismantling the web of influence that had entangled me for so long.
Researching and acknowledging covert narcissism laid the beginning groundwork for reclaiming my autonomy. The therapist's guidance not only illuminated the shadows but empowered me to break free from the chains of manipulation. Navigating the complexities of my past, I realized that understanding my mother's behavior was the key to liberating myself from its insidious effects. The journey was arduous, but the lightbulb moment ignited a path toward healing, self-discovery, and a newfound sense of self.
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