Today I found an old jump drive and in it, I found a folder labeled "Recordings".  The first was me messing with a scammer that was pretty funny.  But the next four or five were NOT what I was expecting.  I opened the file and heard myself screaming at my son.  

Good god, that was horrible.  It turned my stomach.  My oldest son was 17 and that was the day he was packing up to be kicked out of my house to go live with his father.  I want to cry just thinking about it.  

See, my son is autistic and has emotional issues and back then, they were at their worst.  And I made them so much worse by not understanding what was going on.  So my son broke things and hit people.  And in the recording, he was blaming me.  And I was listening to this file saying "He was right.  It made it all so much worse."  But the old me didn't listen.  She thought she knew best.  She thought she was doing the right thing.  That her son was was the problem and that was that.  

And that simply was not true.  

Yes, he had issues, but he wasn't the only problem.  It was all of us.  

Five entire recordings of my son crying, and yelling, and screaming about he didn't want to go.  It freaking broke my heart to listen to that.  But he was gone for only two days.  And he came back a new man.  And we had a parenting agreement in place with him and he got better.  Did he still backslide?  Oh yes, and I did, too.  But it took my youngest son to see what we were doing to him for us all to change.  I thank my son so much for that.  Without him making us see the light, who knows what would have happened.  

Yes, my oldest son was violent.  He was aggressive.  He was loud.  He berated me.  He was doing all the wrong things.  But I did all the wrong things too: I yelled back.  I berated him back.  I screamed at him.  I blamed him.  And I didn't do the ONE thing he needed (even through his yelling): and that was LISTEN to him.  And it's been ten years and I've learned my lesson.  Even if he still yells at times.  I listen.  The other day I did yell back at him, but that's rare anymore, and it took him by surprise.  

And the more I listened and let him yell and let him scream, but without saying much back, the less he yelled and the less he screamed.  The more I saw his point of view, the easier things got.  And if I had known back then what I know now?  That all it took was for me to listen?  Life could have been so much better for us all.  

I will say one thing that was good that came out of this: his brother and him are closer because of it.  Before, they fought like cats and dogs.  But when they banded against me?  They found a bond.  Not that I am taking credit for that...that's on my youngest.  He is the reason this family healed.  Because he showed us the way through the darkness.  He was our light.  And this changed my oldest son into brother's biggest supporter and protector and fan.  See, D always loved his little brother.  He was the most excited big brother in the universe when I found out I was pregnant.  He even named one day little brother "Superman".  But once my oldest started experiencing issues with his emotions, that's what drove a wedge between them.  And that's not my oldest's fault.  He couldn't help his big emotions and still sometimes can't (though he usually gets a hold on them pretty quickly).  But then my youngest went through puberty and started to control his own emotions (he's also autistic), then they started coming back together again.  It took me a bit longer to get it.  But now I do, and I we're all so much better.  

I told my oldest about these recordings and we both felt bad.  He told me how much he loved him and I told him how much it hurt me to hear those recordings, to know the pain he felt and to literally hear it with my own ears, it was horrible.  He said "We're all better now.  None of us knew back then how to deal with all of that.  Especially me."  He's so much more self-aware now.  So much more mature and kind-hearted.  Well, he was always kind-hearted, he just felt these overwhelming emotions he could not control that made him say and do things that didn't show off how kind-hearted he really was.    

There were times I suspected he was a narcissist.  And horribly enough, times I accused him of that in the heat of a horrible argument.  God, I wish I could take those words back.  But I also know there are many words my son wishes he could take back, too, the things he accused me of.  It was a bad and horrible time for us all.  Turns out, ASD can mimic narcissism in so many ways, and I think that could be due to the fact that so many narcissists have ASD.  Neither of us has NPD.  But we were both learning about it (because of my mother) and we could clearly see the patterns in both of us that mimicked it.  We both learned a lot from that period of our lives.  Even if it was in a chaotic and cruel sort of way.  

It's so weird, to see how far we've come in ten years.  The recording put a pit in my stomach.  Hearing the proof of a memory we all (in our house) would like to forget.  But here's the thing: we don't forget.  We don't pretend it didn't happen.  We don't avoid talking about it due to shame.  Because there is no shame in acting horrible.  It's a part of being human.  We full accept we made mistakes and will make more in the future.  That's how we grow and learn.  Narcissists 100% do not understand this.  They allow their massive shame to never allow them to admit to their mistakes.  Or, if they do admit to them, it's for manipulative reasons.  Something has to benefit the narcissist in order for them to do it.  Always.  So, just casually walking into your child's room to talk about such a recording, and then discussing it with acceptance, clarity, and forgiveness would never ever happen, on either part.  No, they would have deleting the recording and pretended it never happened or would have kicked their mother out of the room or gotten angry about it (granted--they can get angry or not want to speak about it, without being a narcissist, too...sometimes people aren't at the point to feel safe in admitting their mistakes yet in life (for many reasons), my youngest was silent about it when I talked to him about it and he definitely does not have NPD).  

How did I escape this?  My birthfamily (on both sides) is filled with narcissism, and my adoptive family (on both sides) is filled with narcissism.  By all means, I should have NPD.  But I don't.  I think that alone proves it's biologically inherited by some gene (the low level sociopathy, that is).  And I am so glad that both my children, even though they inherited much of my ex-husband's DNA for their looks and other things, they did NOT inherit is his NPD.  And that my husband, who's parents also have NPD, did not inherit it from them (his brother did, but his sister didn't, thank goodness).  His brother saw him as a rival from the moment he was born.  He was twelve.  If my kids had a twelve year difference in age, both kids would have treated their younger brother as their little buddy.  They would have loved to have had a little person to cart around and have fun with.  They would have been their protectors.  But not my hubby's brother.  He saw him immediately as a nuisance and treated him like total garbage.  Once, my hubby threw up on him (he was around three years old), and his brother got so mad he went and peed on his toys.  He was fifteen!!!  

But we four escaped the prison of our DNA.  I really consider us lucky as NPD must be a horrible prison to live in every single day, day in and day out.  I am so lucky that I get to experience life as it really is.  That I have the capabilities to examine my mistakes and forgive myself for them.  I feel sorry for those with NPD.  It doesn't excuse their behaviors, but I can still see how horrible it must be live like that.  

I did delete those recordings.  I never wanted to listen to them again.  The pain and sorrow I caused my son.  The pain and sorrow he caused me.  But we both don't hold a grudge as we both realize you do better when you know better and when you're capable of doing better.  We realize that ASD makes so many things so much worse at times, but while it takes longer for us, we do learn to do better.  And that's all we can ask in life.  Learn from your mistakes, and do better.  Or at least try.  Narcs don't try.  They just go on being who they are forever (or if they do change, it's a manipulation).  

I love my family.  And I am so proud of how far we've all come.  But mostly, I am more proud of the fact that we can revisit our past mistakes with grace and understanding and forgive ourselves and each other for them.  Because love is what makes a family good.  And my family is saturated with it.  

Not my mother though.  But I still have compassion for her.  Even if she has none for me.  Because that's my blessing and her curse (not the other way around).  Because being loved isn't as much of a blessing as being able to love.  You are blessed because you can love (because so many people are unable to).  Never forget that.