Holy Cow! My Mom Is Trump!

And it’s so hard to accept. Someone whom you considered the best of friends, wasn’t guiding you but gaslighting you and manipulating you sweetly for decades. All because she couldn’t stand your innocent smile.

What wrong did you do? You mothered your mother since you saw your dad has fallen mentally sick. So you give up playing with children and sell peanuts in your school. This act makes your mother happy. So you sell more peanuts in 6th grade and learn stitching in 7th grade’s summer holidays. And stitch your school skirts and mom’s blouses and save money. And you grow up thinking B always stood for business and never for boyfriends.

And then decades later you end up with a weirdo roommate in LA who confesses out of the blue that she is a narcissist just because you are watching clips of Good Will Hunting. You binge watch youtube videos and understand what is the problem with Trump. He has all the nine traits of NPD (narcissistic personality disorder) and boy you discover your roommate is also having all the nine traits. Then, you learn you are an empath and it’s not easy for empaths to get rid of narcs because they won’t let you go. But you succeed in running away. Sorry, you do not run away, you are discarded because you learn to set boundaries, you rebuke, you refuse to obey and you show you are courageous. Your roommate hated you more because you called the cops as you were afraid to take your own stuff. You confide in your mom back home in India. All she says is why you get so much trouble always. You tell her your understanding of the ‘why’ now because you are an empath. You think she is listening to you. You think she cares for you. You think she is an empath because she is your mother.

Then, you email to your professor in the management institute. The professor said something about you when you did not retaliate in the class of Feb 2005: you are a scapegoat and it is a group phenomena. The professor told you to stop forgiving so much without speaking up for yourself. Retaliate and then forgive.

Then, as if it is God’s plan, you land in India, and you go for a health checkup of your mom. And she refuses to apologize to the doctor. You are taken aback. Because Trump never says sorry. And when you ask her why, your mom says, “Sorry is an English word.” So you join a few dots and you get it that your mom is a narcissistic who has devalued you, demeaned you and discarded you repeatedly. You accept it. Because you have accepted the abuse repeatedly.

And then you recollect what you had written in “The Chicken Meditation” , the feature script you wrote in 2015 that reached Oscar Nicholls top 15%. What did you write in The Chicken Meditation? Hmmm. Story of a ten year old boy who loves silence and whose teacher punishes him daily. Isn’t your mom that teacher who’s punished you daily. The protagonist doesn’t complain and takes on the abuse because complaining is stupidity. A human of great character never complains. That’s wastage of time. That’s what my mom taught me.

You remember then once you were in Pune, for job, away from your mom, you had 104 fever. You told her on the phone and her response was sudden silence. The landlady took care of you out of pity or maybe because you gave rent monthly. She put water dipped handkerchief for an hour. Guess what when your mom calls you next? Next to the next day but definitely not that day, not even once. Neither your brothers call you not because your mom never taught them how to treat a sister but they were never told the news of high fever. She called you or you called her, you don’t remember. But, you do remember ‘104 fever’’ was communicated. Because when she called you next to the next day, she said, “You must be alright by now.” You also recollect what she told you when you shifted to Pune. She told you on the phone, “I’ve given you to God.” And you heard the little crying of a con artist at it’s best.

Then, on 7th July 2019, you were in Rishikesh swinging on the swing in the balcony of your resort’s room. Your mom was watching you from the glass wall. You were enjoying. Happy. Chilling with the wind. Suddenly, your mom screams at you. You recollect she is a Narc. You leave the swing and leave the room. And when you are accidentally back in the room you see through the glass wall your mom is swinging like you were a few minutes ago. Chilling with the wind. And you run to the bathroom to cry because you got present to the fact that your mom is envious of you.

How a child is supposed to know what a mom is? So if a narcissistic parent is abusing the child lovingly how the child knows it’s abuse until he grows up and watches YouTube and stumbles upon many daughters tortured for decades by the sweet covert narcissistic mom.

Hello World! Trump is OVERT. My mom is a COVERT. She is sweet, graceful, very loving and a learned lady. No one can believe she is a narcissist. A covert narcissist aka vulnerable narcissist is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, extremely hard to identify.

On 8th July 2019, you got present to another memory: you’re 5, in 1st grade and you go to school, walking, alone, daily. Your mom does not walk with you to drop you off or pick you up from the school. Your first visible discard. And then you recollect how you’re fighting with your dad asking for money to go to school’s picnic. Your dad looks at you as if begging you to stop. There is only little money. It’s the end of the month. He will get a salary on the 1st of the month. Your mom is sitting next to him. She is just watching you two. Not saying anything to you. And you the 3rd grader, you are fighting hard. You see your mom. She is happy to see you two fight. Then, when you are in 11th grade, your dad brings an uncle home. The uncle brings along his 12th grade son and his two daughters along with a futuristic marriage proposal for you. Uncle says he got two didis(elder sisters) for you. And you say you don’t have any shortages of didis. Your mom praises you for saying that. She also praised you in 8th grade when neighboring Srivastava auntie said, ”How could you take your daughter to the hospital with you. It does not make sense at all.” Auntie was talking about your mom’s abortion. Your mom had taken you and your dad to the hospital when she underwent an abortion. Nobody else. And you recollect your dad stood speechless and helpless. Down the memory lane, you look at the face of your dad. Why is he looking so helpless? Because he got electric shocks in the mental hospital when you were in 7th grade.

Ronan Farrow, I seek your guts.

When you see your sis-in-laws playing the same game that your mom plays — divide and rule, you get it your brothers are not only married to mom, they are also married to women like mom. Your mom has expanded her team. You ask your mom the question Cinderella asks to her step mom, “How could you be so cruel to me?” Your mom says nothing to you. Stays evasive. You say, “You are not my mom! You don’t love me.” She’s 70. She smiles. She tells you smilingly what you will get by saying you are not my mom, she might die in a year or two. You say, “No you’ll live for long.” In your heart you want this so bad because you need time to win. And your mom’s winning smile widens as she shakes her head left right. And then you see a child in a seventy year old body.

Your inner child answers next day. Because she was jealous of your smile. You see the one who truly loved you. Your dad. Her victim. All because he loved you? He took you for early morning walks since you were a toddler. He told your mom’s mom that you are equal to seven sons because she made a face that you are a girl when you are born. He was your true school. He taught you A, B, C, D…on morning walks while you held his pinky. He loved you. You mom’s dad never loved her.

Was your dad gas-lighted beyond believes?

You wonder if he was not mentally sick. You wonder if he recognized the monster in your mom. He was angry with mom. You remember. Was he punished for his rage? Just when you are wondering who will answer your questions because your mom won’t confess the crime she has done, she corners you with a scowl on her face and threatens, “You sound more like your dad now a days. You know what I did to him???

Bingo!

You recollect your dad telling your mom, “You are not my wife. You don’t love me.” And you wash your tears and see yourself in the mirror and wonder. Does your face remind her of your dad? Isn’t that’s how you ended The Chicken Meditation, unknowingly, consciously and subconsciously.

PS: a)I wish in the school besides digestive system, algebra, periodic tables personal pronouns, how to identify the hidden abuse of a covert narcissist was also taught. My dad and elder dad would have been alive.

b) As I go down the memory lane like peeling onion layers, I thank her and forgive every act of her to be free: An Ode To My Narcissistic Mom

c) Writing with consciousness is the the best guidance from the Higher Power aka God aka Infinite Spirit.

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Mamta Narang

Mamta Narang

Love Watercolors, Food, Python, R and Words.

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