Our Father: A Letter to the Narcissist

I know who you are. And I’m not alone.

Looking back, now that you are almost out of my life, I think I always knew. But as I watch my two younger brothers live through that hellish mystery of what-will-he-be-like-today, I remember how much I yearned to believe, just like them, that the love you said you were giving was real. And I remember ignoring, just like them, all the now-obvious signs that you were something very different than you said you were. Because you were supposed to be my father, our father, and we your children. But a child should never have to question his father’s love.

The only thing that separates me from my brothers is time. I am not wiser or more mature or more enlightened than they are, only older, far enough away to see a bigger picture. In their searching eyes I recognize the confusion I once felt, the doubt I once faced, and the pain I once feared, and although my same clear-sightedness ignites its own rage within me, I take solace in knowing that someday they will finally shed their involuntary dependence on you and know you as I do now: an excuse for a man, pretending to be our dad.

You think you have everyone fooled. Even as I write, the young boy in me questions what seems harshly accusatory, but he has learned to trust the man I am becoming and not the voices of those who have not yet learned your game. My brothers will get there, too. That is our power: growing up. To you, I am still the nine-year-old boy who saw you as the reason for my mother’s smile, the boy who looked up to you, listened to what you had to say, corrected what you told me was wrong. You made a good impression in the beginning, as you do with everyone, but you try to hold on to that first impression and forget how far past the beginning we are now. Your charm has worn off and your excuses don’t work, yet you fight on to convince yourself that the rest of us are powerless. How wrong you are.

Now that I am on the outside looking in on the grimy world you have elected yourself to rule, I see that you never cared. Your goal wasn’t to love but to win. Turning the tables was your mastered art form, asking me to tell you whenever something was wrong, then afterward explaining how it was only in my hands to fix it. You made it clear that my pain was my problem, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You asked the same outdated questions for years, questions you still don’t know the answers to because that was never your goal. As long as I thought you cared, you had the control. It didn’t matter how, but you had to come out on top. The moment I realized this, though, and acted on the power I always had, you disappeared with your tail between your legs and only engaged with me when you had to, hands shaking and fear in your eyes as you faced the man you could never be. Now I watch, disgusted, as you stare through your sunglasses at your twelve-year-old son, tears in his eyes as he tells you again he wants to stay with Mama, and you don’t say a word. You wait it out until he finally gives in.

But that won’t last long. My brothers will grow up, as I did, and learn to let you go. And at some point, they will see that doesn’t even hurt you and will free themselves from expecting anything from you again. All the what-if-he’s-right’s and what-if-it’s-just-me’s will fade with the same hypotheticals you always used to support yourself, and they’ll be left with one profound clarity: they don’t need you.

Hallowed be thy name.

—
Originally Published on Medium

—

◊♦◊The Good Men Project is different from most media companies. We are a “participatory media company”—which means we don’t just have content you read and share and comment on but it means we have multiple ways you can actively be a part of the conversation. As you become a deeper part of the conversation—The Conversation No One Else is Having—you will learn all of the ways we support our Writers’ Community—community FB groups, weekly conference calls, classes in writing, editing platform building and How to Create Social Change.

◊♦◊

Here are more ways to become a part of The Good Men Project community:

Request to join our private Facebook Group for Writers—it’s like our virtual newsroom where you connect with editors and other writers about issues and ideas.

Click here to become a Premium Member of The Good Men Project Community. Have access to these benefits:

1. Get  access to an exclusive “Members Only” Group on Facebook
2. Join our Social Interest Groups—weekly calls about topics of interest in today’s world
3. View the website with no ads
4. Get free access to classes, workshops, and exclusive events
5. Be invited to an exclusive weekly “Call with the Publisher” with other Premium Members
6. Commenting badge.

Are you stuck on what to write? Sign up for our Writing Prompts emails, you’ll get ideas directly from our editors every Monday and Thursday. If you already have a final draft, then click below to send your post through our submission system.

If you are already working with an editor at GMP, please be sure to name that person. If you are not currently working with a GMP editor, one will be assigned to you.

◊♦◊

Are you a first-time contributor to The Good Men Project? Submit here:

◊♦◊

Have you contributed before and have a Submittable account? Use our Quick Submit link here:

◊♦◊

Do you have previously published work that you would like to syndicate on The Good Men Project? Click here:

—

 ID: 144790849