Touch of Grey Rock
Entry 1
7:57 AM 2.25.2024
Leiney's First Scone Ever. Evergreen State Fair, August 2004.
Walking on egg shells was the way we lived for so long. We wanted to avoid the wrath, the anger. For me, I always believed in my heart of hearts that I was wrong. For instance, we entertained a lot all the years the kids were growing up. Whether with our extended family, with friends or, as per usual, both, we had people over. We would host. We would cook. We had the formal dining room with a giant table, and the Renton house was just so big it was a convenient place to celebrate. When the party ended, whether at 7 or 11 at night, and regardless of the number of people, we had to clean the house, top to bottom. If there was even a suggestion to Jenny that we wait until the morning, that was a trigger for her rage. So, after I tried to discuss it a couple of times, and experiencing her outsized rage, I just made sure the house was immaculate before we went to bed. This lasted years. I believed, given her reaction, and my lack of frame of reference about when cleaning was proper, that I was wrong to even desire this. What she wanted or complained about was valid, and the problems were my fault. That is where I landed.
Early on I would defend myself, defend my point of view. She would just fight harder. by the time we fought about this a couple times, I blamed myself. Instead of taking on the fight, I just ended up blaming myself. We would clean. I would go to bed feeling sorry, even acknowledging to Jenny that she was right, saying I am sorry. It became a reflex. Over time, I really believed I was to blame. That I didn't do what I should have done.
That of course I was selfish and should have taken part in driving the kids to acting was her stance. , Even though the kids go to school at Jenny's work, which is five minutes from the I-90 bridge entrance and where the classes were on Mercer Island. Nevwrmind that Jenny was done with work when it was time to take the girls to acting. Ignore that I worked in Renton, and wasn't off before 5 on any given day--about the time acting started. We quickly arrived at a solution that I would go, after work and pick the kids up from acting, so Jenny wasn't stuck on Mercer Island, which was only fair. This did not solve the problem of her obligation, 4-5 days a week (I took them on Saturdays) of driving them across the bridge. Jenny would still complain it was unfair she had to take them. When I would offer that I was still working at that time and suggest that if this were so taxing we could consider other things for the kids to do, she always rejected the idea. No matter what I said, what she perceived as fundamental unfairnness was laid at my feet, my fault, indelibly.
I wanted to please her. I wanted her to be happy. It's why I took the job in California, ironically. After being harangued more times than I can remember that we weren't making enough money--as you will see that translated into I wasn't making enough money--it was my fault that she was unhappy. The number of times Jenny melted down between 2003 and 2011, was legion. Why can't we afford to travel to exotic places every year? Why can't we afford a vacation home like our friends? Why don't we have money like X does? Why can't you find a better job that pays more? These discussions would happen fairly routinely. There wasn't a time one took place where the discussion wasn't a foreshadowing of a meltdown full of invective and accusatory statements. I would go toe to toe with her often, but I always felt it was my fault. Mind you, we were never broke. We owned a home, I was paying off student loans through a school program that limited my income. Jenny refused to work or only worked part-time at best for most of those years. I was, as I would tell her (the effect of which was to only raise her ire), proud of how far I had come in my life, felt that I was successful. She didn't see it that way. When she would demand that I find a better job, my rejoinder would be, "You went to Columbia, go use that degree and become a corporate trainer, it pays better than a teacher's salary." Her response, I shit you not, was that she liked what she was doing and didn't want to do anything else. In other words, she didn't want to trade her happiness for mammon. Me, on the other hand, I should sacrifice all for her. When I suggested that she return to work full-time, she rejected that as well, until Abby hit age 4. I am not sad about that, I wanted Abby to be with her mom for as much as she could at that young age. I just note Jenny's refusal to go to work full-time as it underscore this wild expectation that I alone was expected to sacrifice (I loved practicing law almost as much as I hated working at SEIU 1199NW, to be clear). Ultimately, despite Jenny's refusal to come to California, I took my first LR job to please Jenny, to get her more money. Of course, she refused the six-figure job offered to her when she came down, demonstrating in my mind that this was never about money, but about shaming and controlling me. Hindsight is 20/20.
The self-blame I saddled myself with, according to experts, is a byproduct of the chronic gaslighting. Gaslighting breaks you down over time. It makes you want to comply with the gaslighter's desires so that the conflict abates. Over time, you just begin to agree with everything the gaslighter says. To outsiders, it looked, for most of the years we were together, as if we were simpatico. That was never true. I just went along because I didn't want to fight. The acquiescence is my fault. Not the desire to have a happy marriage, or a happy Jenny, but the go along to get along attitude. In her eyese, it was my fault she was unhappy, and my duty to fix it.
After lots of therapy, one of the things that I managed to learn is to keep my mouth shut, not to engage with the narcissist. If you go back and look, I started at the direction of my therapist to not enter into conflict, a strategy better explained to me by my friend Sara, in what she referred to as being a grey rock. It changed absolutely everything--the pain of her manipulation and rejection of her family as she was dying can't be overstated. It nearly broke me mentally. But between my kids, therapy, greyrocking, walking the ridiculous amount that I did, and the close support of you, my friends, I made it through, scathed but standing.
It's ironic, because isn't that what you learn as a target of gaslighting and narcissistic abuse is to keep your mouth shut, to amend your speech and behavior to avoid making Jenny wroth with my straying from her map of expectations. I guess the difference is rather than walking on eggshells, instead of amending your behavior to give the narcissist what she wants, you are now amending your behavior precisely to avoid giving in and by doing so feeding the narcissist's need for control and obeisance. So, for instance, if I would clean the house after a soiree to avoid the explosion of anger for contemplating waiting until the morning, I would now tell Jenny I will wait until the morning. If she wasn't ok with that, and began to scream at me, I would ignore her, going so far as to leave the house to avoid the rage. She was baffled. When she asked me to drive her to Portland to see Becky and I immediately said I wasn't interested in doing that and didn't discuss it further, in fact, I think I might have just said no, she was baffled. She changed the narrative, adding a visit to her step-Mom, I believe for the sole purpose of trying to make me seem like a monster and her request eminently reasonable to those to whom she pitched the story. I didn't budge. When she raised the matter repeatedly, I didn't engage, or if I did, offered her ideas on how to get to Becky's. She would tell people, and I saw this in writing at the time, that she couldn't believe I would refuse the request of a woman suffering from this horrible cancer. She did omit a few facts, like she was seeing Eric on the daily and still hadnt decided if I was worth keeping. I honestly believe, the biggest part of the upset is that she couldn't get me to comply. She wasn't used to it. She just wasn't used to not getting her way.
Regret is the fabric of narcissistic abuse. It wraps around the target like an insecurity blanket. It is a reflexive language and belief that starts in childhood and requires deep inner work to get to radical acceptance and to finding, knowing and holding your own reality. As I think about getting better, I am certain I need trauma-informed therapy, that I need to own what I got wrong and make amends. But taking responsibility for the manipulation, gaslighting, and the circus sideshow of various and sundry accoutrements of the narcissist has to end, if I am ever going to get better.
I think what is important to remember is that the voice in my head that tells me or told me that Jenny was right to do the things she did, that it was my fault she cheated on me, that she betrayed the love of her own children in favor of el pinche still lives. I have yet to vanquish it's dulcet tones. It wasn't born of Jenny, this inner demon, but arises from an older and deeper past of childhood trauma and abuse. My behavior wasn't borne of Jenny, but was molded to meet her particular set of expectations and need for control. I am more like a pigeon or a mark, a perfect target for her own malady to realize what it desired, whether she knew it or not. What did she desire? I am only hazarding a guess here, but I think it was someone else to blame for her never feeling good enough. Someone she could control, and get to lord over. I gave that to her in spades.
Love you, dear friend.
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