Hi, I’m Gloria, a sarcastic, anxious, full-time working, over-functioning mom of four. Around here, Frankie (11), Sofia (9), Nico (4), and John (2) rule the roost but growing up, my life was very different than it is today. Not only was I an only child in a single-parent household, but my mother was non-existent.
My mother was and is a textbook narcissist. After work, she would go out most nights until all hours, leaving me to my own devices on the 32nd floor of our Manhattan apartment building. As a parent, I often wonder how she got away with it, but that’s the 90s for you.
I have consciously chosen to parent in a style that is very opposite of my mother.
I strive to show up for my kids in every way I can, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I try my best to get dinner on the table, a task that I share with my husband, Frank, most nights of the week. I show up on the sidelines of the football, baseball, and softball fields, to the talent shows, back-to-school nights, children’s choir concerts, orchestra concerts, and everything in between.
I know what it’s like to be the kid nervously scanning the room, hoping to lock eyes with your mom; to take an anxious breath when the auditorium door opens, hoping that it’s them, only to be let down once more. I refuse to be the source of pain or disappointment for a child I brought into the world.
It’s almost as though my mother’s shortcomings drove me into this state of over-functioning in an attempt to prove to myself (and the world) that I would not become what the statistics said I would.
Studies show that children of narcissistic parents tend to struggle with boundary enforcement, guilt, and shame, and often try time and time again to get it right with their parent, the Einstein definition of insanity is “doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
When people find out that I have four kids, I get a lot of reactions about our big family, and we like to play into them. My husband’s favorite response is that I can’t keep my hands off him. When women ask how I do it, I usually respond, “Therapy, meds, alcohol, and some tears.” Everyone laughs, but that is my tried and true recipe.
I realized that prioritizing my mental health, being honest with my therapist, and being willing to work hard on myself and my relationships was the first step towards progress in my journey. From there, the rest continues to fall into place. I”m making progress. I no longer view my medications as a sign of weakness but rather as an aid in helping me through my day, much like coffee helps ground me first.
I have learned that while on some days I may still lose my cool or wish I had done something differently, I am still showing up, I am still present, and I am still working to be a better me for those I love. That’s what counts.
