“Understanding is not ability. Understanding plus ten thousand times is ability.” ~Shinichi Suzuki
I always knew what to articulate to my narcissistic mother. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
For two decades, I meticulously learned every tactic available. Gray rocking (staying emotionally neutral and unresponsive). Broken record (calmly reiterating the same limit). Don’t JADE (Justify, Argue, Defend, Explain). I could detail these methods to a stranger at a café without any hesitation.
Yet, whenever my mother sat across from me at the dinner table, pressing every button she knew I had, all that knowledge disappeared. Every single time.
My body would respond instinctively. My chest would constrict, my palms would dampen, and within moments I was either paralyzed or retaliating with the precise emotional response she craved. Then I’d despise myself on the drive home, replaying what I should have communicated instead.
This continued for twenty years.
The Cycle
Both my parents exhibited every characteristic of narcissistic abuse I’ve ever encountered. My father was rarely present, so it was primarily my mother from my teenage years onward.
We underwent several phases of no contact. The most extended period lasted three years after too much toxic interaction occurred between her and my spouse. I believed that distance would resolve the issues. It did not.
Severing ties completely also didn’t seem to be a solution. I would return, everything would be okay for some time, and then the cycle would begin anew. A family gathering. A phone call. A remark intended to irritate me.
And I would react. Every time.
The maddening aspect was that I comprehended what was transpiring. I’d viewed countless videos from therapists who specialize in narcissistic abuse. I’d read the literature, joined the discussions, and agreed with every comment that reflected my exact circumstances.
I understood the theory thoroughly. But understanding is not synonymous with being able to apply it when someone is staring you in the face and twisting the blade.
The Dinner That Altered Everything
Last December, my father was diagnosed with cancer. I returned to my home country to see them. Dad declined to see me, stating he didn’t want me to witness him “like that.” So, I ended up spending time with my mother.
We enjoyed an unexpectedly pleasant day together, discussing everything under the sun except anything intimate. I was nearly taken aback by how kind she was acting.