For many fortunate and blessed people, the word family can mean many wonderful things. Family can represent unconditional love, acceptance, security, and a place you can turn to when you’re in trouble. However, if you come from a narcissistic, dysfunctional, or toxic family, family represents abuse, harsh judgment, biting criticism, and emotional neglect. Unfortunately, my family of origin meets the latter definition of family.
From an early age, I sensed that I was different from my family of origin. I did not think that I was superior to them, I was just different. My family is angry and emotionally explosive, whereas, I am more introverted and measured in my responses. My family liked being around other dysfunctional people, I preferred the company of books, dogs, and a select few people that I trust. I did not understand it then, but my individual identity was seen as a threat to the family status quo.
In a narcissistic family, the children are seen as extensions of the narcissistic parents. In other words, I was supposed to be a miniature version of my parents. I was supposed to act and think like them, even as a small child. This was a more tortuous and hellish version of peer pressure.
For the last year or so, my wife and I have done a lot of research into the topic of narcissism- books, YouTube videos, and I am also going to therapy. This is not easy to write and it was not easy to live out in my life. I believe that the only way I endured that life was truly by the grace of God.
My role in my family of origin was that of the scapegoat. The concept of the scapegoat is found in the Bible, specifically in Leviticus 16. On the Day of Atonement, two goats were set aside. Lots were drawn to determine which goat would fulfill which role- one goat would be sacrificed for the sins of the Israelites, the other would be the scapegoat. The priest would pronounce the sins of the people onto the scapegoat and send the scapegoat off into the wilderness.
I was the scapegoat in my family, my job was to absorb the family shame and dysfunction, because they would not deal with their own problems. I was the target of verbal and physical abuse from my parents. I was made to feel shame for the way that I was, as if my existence brought some sort of pain.
I don’t know why the lot fell to me to be the family scapegoat, but that designation has caused me a lifetime of pain and hurt. If you’ve read this far, thank you. This is just an introductory glimpse into what I will be sharing on this blog.
If my words have helped you in any way, I encourage you to seek the advice of a qualified mental health professional, a pastor, a friend you can trust, don’t be afraid to come out of the darkness.
Surviving Narcness 