My First Memory of her Narcissism

I can remember with great clarity, considering I was 4 or 5 years old, the first time I realised that my Mother was someone who I should be very very afraid of......

It must of been around Christmas time and it was the tradition we went to my Father`s sister`s house for a party. My Aunt was very different from my Mother, she was successful, hardworking, she had her own business, she was a homemaker, a hostess, popular, well liked, all the things my Mother would of loved to have been but wasn`t. They lived in a quiet, pretty road in a detached house which they owned, we rented a high rise council flat on the wrong side of town.

I loved going to her house, it was warm, beautifully decorated, filled with laughter, there were crackling fires in the hearth and endless delicious homemade things to eat, it was filled with the spirit of Christmas. For a little girl whose home environment was very different it was quite magical.

By chance my two cousins were a fair bit older than me and the rest of the party crowd were all adults, 50`s 60`s and older, I was the only little one there so naturally I received a lot of attention, I was cooed and fussed over a great deal...... and that there was the problem.

My Mother was a raging Narcissist. I didn`t discover there was a name for how, what she was until several years after her death. My Mother HAD to be the centre of attention, everyone`s priority and that didn't fit well with having a little girl with pretty curls and big blue eyes and an innate need to entertain and make people like her. I was competition. She hadn`t foreseen that when I was born.

And so I have this vivid memory.....which still chills me now 12 years on from her death....

She leaned over me, gripping my upper arm tightly and pulling me to her, looking up at her she seemed to block out everything about us, there was just her and her menacing presence. She curled her lips back and almost growled, her tone low, each word pronounced slowly with venom...

"And when we get there tonight don`t you dare try and take all the attention off me" she snarled slowly, her eyes blazing with threat and hatred..."Don`t you dare do that so that no one bothers with ME" ....she snatched my arm a little tighter and leaned in more, positively glowing with toxicity "everyone fussing over you, How VERY nice for DEAR little Amanda"

And with that she let me go sharply, cut me a warning glare and marched away. Leaving me with an awful sense of foreboding, fear and a childlike instinctive feeling that my Mother was not someone who offered safety and warmth. 

Naturally she was utterly charming when we got to the party, beaming my way with fake smiles that kept eye contact with me just an extra second more than was needed, an extra second where the warmth had slipped from her face, an extra second that acted as a reminder of her warning.

And I tried to do as she had told me, I tried my hardest to be less noticeable, smaller, quieter, less responsive to peoples attention, to be invisible. Just how she liked it.

The words she spoke have lived in my memory ever since I heard them. They chilled me to my core and echoed in my mind for years and years. As an adult I marvelled at how very clearly I remembered what she had said that day given my young age. But then I think many people remember things that frightened them greatly when they were little.
I particularly recall the way she spate the words Dear little Amanda at me, drawling them out and over pronouncing the syllables of my name with utter disgust, as if she could not stand the sight of me. To this day if someone says my name a little sharply or loudly my stomach flips and I tense up.

Dear Little Amanda