She is impossible. I set boundaries, but she is so evil that she always finds a way around them. I only stay in touch with her because she is my dad's caretaker. He has dementia.

My mother has succeeded in isolating herself from nearly everyone. She is beyond help. I am the person she hates the most. It is not fun to be the focus of her hate.

She is a chronic liar. She starts family fights. What else do you want to know?

The one I'm dealing w/ is my soon-to-be-ex-husband.

Coping with Divorce and Separation.

I am sorry. Don't hesitate to use that group for support, or any other group on DU that might help. The people here are wonderfully supportive.

Creating a public discussion that is simultaneously supportive for both dx'd mentally ill and non-dx contacts is extraordinarily challenging. That sort of problem is one of the reasons I think there are often separate forums for dx and non-dx at many psychology blogs.

I personally think it may be impossible to have a balanced discussion when dealing with NPD.

MHSG doesn't maintain a separation of dx and non-dx. The difficulty with that is dx'd and non-dx'd wander through the same threads.

And they can stumble across threads that present a person's opposite circumstance.

That experience can be, as they say in the psychiatric industry, 'quite arousing'.


So as a rhetorical tool, to make readers of this group at least consider something of the other side in this thread, I ask:

1) Was a mother evil or was her evilness a consequence of the dysfunction that typified her personality disorder?

2) How could we tell? Does it matter?

3) For the purpose of making one person feel supported, should other persons be labelled evil when that evilness originates in a mental disorder?



Transference is a powerful thing, and a discussion about a stranger, can suddenly become painfully redirected to/by an unintended person.

I want to be clear, I think grandiose narcissists are difficult to be around. I think grandiose narcissists are often aware that people find them difficult. And I don't want to diminish the reality that non-dx persons who encounter and are closely associated with a dx'd NPD can suffer greatly from the presence of the narcissists dysfunction.

But before this thread spins ahead using stigmatizing adjectives about NPD's I think it's important to think about a minimum number of basics about NPD.



Narcissism is an Axis II disorder that grows out of a dysfunctional sense of self. It's a chronic mental disorder.

In general, a person with NPD is very insecure about self, and struggles, sometimes in a grandiose fashion, but usually in vain, to defeat that insecurity.

Several forms of narcissism are recognized by the experts, but only "grandiose" narcissism is included in DSM-IV-tr. Non-psychologists attribute other forms of narcissism to less stigmatizing labels.


The literature on narcissism is almost 100 years old. That literature claims NDP is a developmental mental disorder that begins with a "narcissistic wound"... a wound to the developing self-image during infancy.

We see narcissists as difficult, impossible, even evil, but according to the experts, it's due to a psychic wound, just as much as is PTSD or the experience that causes similar developmental arrest in Borderline PD.

The narcissistic wound is thought to happen earlier in narcissists than in borderlines, supposedly in infants younger than 2 years who are still in the early stages of self-development. The narcissistic wound is thought to arise from insults such as neglect, inconsistent parenting, or abuse. Whatever its cause, that wound creates a life-long psychic scar that forever cripples the NPD's development of a healthy self-image.

It's very hard to call a baby evil. By comparison it's easy to call an adult co-worker, boss, or family member evil. But according to the experts when our personal NPD nemesis was an innocent infant he/she suffered a serious disabling narcissistic wound.



Unfortunately, there are no very good treatments for NPD. Psychoanalytic approaches suggested to treat it require YEARS. That's generally way too expensive for the masses served by insurance subsidized modern psychology.

An NPD might get 10 or so sessions of talk-therapy to try to develop in the NPD an awareness of the disorder's presence and its symptoms. And a person might learn tactics/skills to combat the dysfunction brought about by failed self-development.

That is the NPD might learn some coping skills if they can get past personal denial and endure the pain to their crippled self-image that comes with a diagnosis which itself pathologizes the NPD's life-long efforts to overcome the tremendous, socially debilitating insecurity about their self.

So are my brothers. We have had many years of therapy.

You don't like my use of the word "evil?" I am not going to apologize. I have had a lifetime to see the results of her behavior. I have had to deal with the brokenness in my own life. I am sixty-three years old and she is still trying to abuse me and tear me down. She devotes a great deal of time to it.

We have done everything we can think of to get her to seek help. We have done everything we can to minimize her damage.

Evil? Oddly enough, my dad could not have a better caretaker. But that is the only good thing I am going to say about her.

And yes, she is evil. I will stand by that. Unless you are inside my situation, don't judge.

I have read a great deal about NPD, and had it explained to me by professionals. I find your response snotty and unhelpful. I hope the OP can get the support she needs. My thoughts and prayers will be with her.

I think I was fairly clear about why I wrote what I did.

Those remarks were not directed at you.

I made them without reverting to calling anyone names, and I was careful to make a point of separating you from those remarks.

I thank you for editing your subject line.

I interpret your remarks to me as defensive. That suggests that you took what I wrote was personal rather than rhetorical.

I'm sorry that you feel that way, it was not my intention.

That's not odd at all, because your mom has turned your dad's illness into a reflection of herself.

She has becomes the star of this drama with your father playing the roll of supporting actor, or worse, a simple prop, since you describe your mom as "evil."

We'd all like to be the stars of our own personal dramas -- narcissists simply carry this behavior to extremes.

Life for the supporting actors and props in the narcissist's world is a little bit easier when the narcissist decides they are playing the starring role in an action-romance-comedy, but not much easier... Rent Tim Burton's movie "Big Fish" to see that sort in action.

Your mom was probably the star of an action-romance-comedy when your dad married her. The drama and horror shows came later.

My own family is plagued with mental illness but I strive to write the stories as action-romance-comedy when they could just as easily be bloody drama.

Psychologists pretend to know something about the pathologies that surround self. The intimates of those with pathologies of self try to explain existence in ways that justify their pain...generally at the expense of those who are, if we are to believe ANYTHING from the object-relations area, from a very early age placed on a trajectory to FAIL at socio-psychological functioning, and who, within OUR cultural context, are free-to-be targets of disgust, rejection, and marginalization.

We would shelter a baby with Down's Syndrome but we accept without question the volition of those with the most stigmatizing of mental illnesses, simply because we prefer THEM to be stigmatized as our oppressors.

Sad? Well yes, but way too true.

Is choosing to see that as comedy vs drama is an authentic choice? Is it the only choice?

... at least so far as my depression is under control. And even in my blackest un-medicated or mis-medicated depths, when I'm entirely dysfunctional, there's this autistic Mr. Magoo-like character inside me that keeps bumbling along. I can't see my obsessive-compulsive alter-ego when I'm away in the darkness, but he holds body and soul together until I return. He's a little bit more sophisticated than an auto-pilot, he does more than wash my hands and brush my teeth, but he's erratic as all hell. My major complaint is he forgets to eat and next thing you know I'm skeleton-man. He also got me kicked out of college. Twice. I graduated to spite him.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, I came back from the darkness to find myself sliding down a street in Berkeley. Pain can wake a person up. (I imagine this is why some people cut... it brings them back.) My alter-ego had decided it was a good time to exit girlfriend's car, no matter it was moving. And it was probably a good decision too when I look back on it, sorry about the blood. She sent my stuff back to me in a box. No note, no nothing. Run, run away from crazy man who steps out of moving cars.

But it's funny, no really! I lived! I'm smiling as I write this.

And the story has a happy ending too. We went opposite directions, avoiding one another with EXTREME PREJUDICE, found our true loves, were fruitful and multiplied. Maybe someday she'll send me the money she owes me, leave me a house in La Jolla, Wall Street shares of absurd value, or something like that. But I hope she doesn't. Best leave the theater at the happily ever after.

Next story.

My grandma was insane and it was the mean kind of insanity. The last chapters of my grandma's life were a bloody horror show of the worst sort. Real blood, real horror. Imagine Alfred Hitchcock's birds flying out of grandma's mouth. Most of these birds with their razor beaks and talons tried to dismember my mom, but nobody was safe. It took the police and paramedics four hours to remove my grandma from her home. She bit, she cursed, she hit, she kicked, all her demons let loose.

My grandma's most minor demon was hoarding, and that's what got her out of the house. She'd become a physical danger to herself and others. She'd already maimed (and maybe even killed) a few people with her tongue, but the potential of burning real estate (and the people therein) attracts official notice.

A couple of years later my grandma was living in a nursing home, as nasty as ever (and occasionally as sweet) but slowed down by physical infirmity. She was a little old eighty pound lady in a wheelchair. She was still a hoarder too, there was at least a hundred pounds pounds of stuff tied to her wheelchair in plastic grocery bags. The nursing home demanded she keep the counter tops and floor and bed clear so she improvised... It was her wheelchair, and she could decorate it as she pleased. If she hadn't had money she'd have been a nasty old bag lady smoking butts she found in the gutter.

I was pushing her along in the nursing home yard and she handed me a plastic bag and asked me to pick up some pine cones. "The gardeners throw them away!" she said.

Knowing she'd turn into a demon if I refused, I picked up the pine cones, put them in the bag. She found a place on her wheelchair to tie them to.

That's funny.

If it's not, it's just another bloody tragedy.

I choose to think of this as a funny story.