Finding My Voice
A Dummy No More!
Although thankful that Jack had actually bothered to make it home for dinner with the kids and me (narcissists train us to accept the bare minimum), I once again found myself sitting silently, nodding and interjecting an occasional agreeable "Um hm" as he engaged in his usual droning on about the same old topics: his imperfect colleagues, his stressors with real estate, the state of the stock market today, etc.—basically, "Me, me, me." And more "Me." (With a narcissist, it's always "Me, me, me.")
One hour later, my butt sore and seemingly stuck to the chair, my mind wandering and wondering when this mind-numbing monologue would conclude, I assumed it was now my turn. (Note: With a narcissist, it's never your turn.) I began sharing the happenings of my day and some frustrations I was currently dealing with. But like clockwork, the moment I opened my mouth to speak, Jack's eyes reflexively glazed over as he turned away from me and jumped up to grab his more-important-than-me mail.
This scene played out over and over throughout my twenty-year marriage. I was repeatedly interrupted, corrected, talked over, dismissed, ignored, and shut down with statements like, "Well, Val, it's not like I haven't heard this before" (Rich coming from the man who insisted I listen to his broken-record venting daily), or, "Just do something about it" (Empathetic, right?), or, "I'm busy—I have more important things to deal with right now." (Classic dismissing and diminishing).
I received his messages loud and clear: I didn't matter. I was not important, not worthy. I had no value. Nothing I said or did mattered. As with many who find themselves in narcissistic relationships, I internalized these messages. Desperate to avoid conflict, I made the subconscious decision to "go along to get along." (Codependency, anyone?) I self-silenced. I stopped sharing anything about me—or about the kids for that matter. I listened, I listened, and I listened some more. I sat and I sat and I sat—Old Horton the Elephant had nothing on me. I turned my attention away from myself and my needs to focus on him and his. (This is ideal to a narcissist... "Me, me, me," remember?) as I walked on eggshells to avoid his narcissistic rage.
As time went on, I shrunk. I withered. I handed over my power—and my voice. I swallowed not only my words but my anger, my frustrations, my pain, and my loneliness. I became increasingly depressed. I became used to playing dumb, letting the "ventriloquist" (aka the narcissist) speak for me. In trying to keep the peace and please someone whom I now realize could not be pleased (enough is never enough for a narcissist), I'd not only lost my voice but my way. More importantly, I'd lost my Self. (Which perfectly suited Jack, as narcissists see others as extensions of themselves, not as autonomous individuals.)
Gradually, my anger began to bubble to the surface, as anger tends to do. (Anger can be a powerful messenger when abuse or maltreatment is afoot.) I began venting to supportive and caring others who were willing to listen: friends, family, and, of course, my therapist. I began to tune into—and actually listen to—the formerly silenced voice within me. And I discovered she had something to say! I realized my self-abandoning and self-silencing was serving no one (my narcissistic husband notwithstanding), least of all me. I decided I was done dumbing down. I was done letting others speak for me. I was done playing small and keeping silent. I was ready to put myself and my needs first. I was ready to find my voice and use it. Yes, I was ready to roar!
In the end, I lost Jack—and found me. I call that a win-win. I'm now ready to stand up, speak up, be seen, and be heard. If, like me, you have found yourself in a squelching, negating, dismissive, and silencing relationship, please seek support so that you, too, can find your way back to the biggest, greatest, strongest, loudest you. You, too, have something to say, and the world needs to hear it. Your silence serves no one. So, speak—lest a dummy do it for you. Show up, stand up, speak up.
To quote Jennifer Lopez, "Let's get loud!"