…b now tells me, “I think you and your sister had very different childhoods,” and I have to agree. It wasn’t a *bad* childhood — I’ve read too many stories from people who had *so* many things far worse than I did — but there a…
Jack, I, too, feel a certain amount of guilt when complaining about my childhood. I lived in a home nicer than nearly all in our area, we had plenty of healthy food to eat and decent clothing to wear, our vehicles were purchased new, our physical needs were met. I wasn’t physically abused. But, ours was not a happy home.
My father, who was intelligent and charming as most narcissists are, was also manipulative, self-centered, quick-tempered, unforgiving, and revengeful. The outside world saw a different man than my sisters and I knew. He was petty and hard to please. Nothing we did was good enough. Simple mistakes were treated and punished as wilful transgressions. He held life-long grudges, excommunicating anyone from his life who dared to disagree with him.
All four of us would eventually abandon him to preserve our own sanity and quality of life. I was the last to walk away. He died alone. No funeral, no tears. Not as much a tragic ending as a tragic life.