I awoke with Frankenstein on my mind. Hmmm …. Sounds like the first line of a really bad song.
But it makes sense given what’s been on my mind of late as I try to move past the damage done by narcissistic parents … if they could rightly be called parents.
Images and vignettes and themes from various movies, comic books, and the original story emerged from the soup that memory had made of them to present a couple of themes that make sense. Alas they seem at this point to merely serve and representations of what happened ….. as of this writing I find in them no new knowledge / guidance / information. Just another confirmation that my childhood and beyond was indeed a bit of a horror movie.
The first thing that I remember was that my parents and Victor Frankenstein have much in common … narcissism. No compassion. No love. No empathy. No heart connection. Mother summed it up nicely when she said, in one of several odd conversations that started with her asking if she was a good parent and not liking the answer, “Your purpose is to make my life meaningful.” That was what I was to her … a reflection of her wonderfulness in popping out a child that was so smart and so creative and so wonderful.
They didn’t really want me. I was a failed attempt to help preserve a failing marriage. Father left when I was 4 or 5 …. In the winter … I remember standing at the door waving goodbye as always. He did not come home. Not for quite a while. And only to visit … and often argue with my mother about something. I came to realize much later that he left to escape her. My sister and I were collateral damage. And he was a narcissist too. Not quite as over-the-top as mom, but definitely more love for himself than his children.
Just like Victor. No emotional investment … no feeling … for the creature he created. It was to be a reflection of his power and genius. The following dialogue between the creature and his creator came to mind:
“Did you ever consider the consequences of your actions? You made me, and you left me to die. Who am I?”
“You? I don’t know.”
My parents made me and then, in effect, left me to die emotionally and spiritually. They give me material sustenance but nothing for my life … my heart … my feelings. Never did we discuss my hopes or fears or dreams or questions as I tried to navigate the world and deal with feeling like a constant outsider.
“You made me… and you teach me nothing …. Why did you make me like this?”
Well, I got part of my answer … to make my mother’s life meaningful. As to what I was taught … I learned that because I was, supposedly, highly intelligent and gifted, nothing I ever did was ever good. Nothing. Ever. “Albert is not working up to his potential” my teachers at the fine private school would constantly say at parent / teacher meetings. As to what that potential was, none could ever say. Just that I was never good enough.
It all came down … and still does … to a simple question by “the creature” … “Where is my place? I have no place!” I was never told. People who said they knew / could help did not. Could not. Only I can find that answer. So I am searching. I feel I am making progress. So say the rare people who actually “see” me and care … as opposed to those who think that their flawed or delusional theology / philosophy will help me … lies they tell themselves to keep from screaming too much.
I stand at the edge of the void. A leap of faith is what is required. As things that do not serve have fallen away I feel liberated and encouraged … and at times wonder what will be left of me. Perhaps it’s not a matter of what is left, but of what that is true and good is finally allowed to be free and form the basis of my life as it should have a long time ago. And resentment holds me back … a vague feeling of anger that I have this affinity to Frankenstein’s creature … that so many lied … that so many shut me out. That I have to work so hard at this time in my life to heal damage that a parent should never do to a child.
In part this is what drives me to work in Hospice and rescue dogs. I find some meaning in standing against the darkness of that sort of being alone … of having to ask that “Why”?
If you want to get a feel for it, find a video of The Still Face Experiment. Watch the child’s pain after just a few seconds of absence of the empathic connection that should exist between a parent and child … and then project that into all of my days as I grew up and you get the idea.
And there is not a damned thing I can do about it. It’s done. My parents are dead. I am left to find my way / step into the light.
I think I am getting closer. I hope so. I have a feeling that one day soon what does not serve will fall away and I can say “Here is my place. Wherever I am … that is my place.”
Starry Wisdom 