There is no forgiveness in a narcissist’s home

Amelie Albrecht

by Amelie Albrecht

Story

I owed my ex-stepfather money when I was 12. At this age, I stayed in his company after school where my mom worked as well and I had about three hours to kill there. One time I was sat near the cash register with nothing much to do. I found a needle and played with it by sticking it in every surface I would find. Near the cash register was a little button with rubber or something over it, so I poked that.

Turns out, it was the emergency button for when the business would get robbed so the employees could call the police without the robber noticing.

About five minutes later, police arrived.

I was so shocked that I fled to my mom, who managed the stock in the basement. Later, I had to tell my stepfather that I was responsible for the incident. He said “if you were responsible for it, you have to pay for it”. The bill from the police was 80€ (about 97 $).

Of course, I had no money. That means, I had a bank account in which my relatives and parents would pay some money sometimes. There was enough on it that he could just have taken it from there. But he thought it was more of a lesson for me if I would work off my debt.

I think my whole toxic and traumatic teenagehood with this man started here. He made a list with how many money was left and hung it in the kitchen. From now on, I worked it occasionally off. I pulled weeds, I worked in his office and filed some formulars, I cleaned stuff… For every hour of work, I owed him 5€ less.

I remember staring at this list in my kitchen and think “I will never pay this off ever”. I was 12. There was no forgiveness for my mistake. Nobody ever told me there was an emergency button and that I should stay away from it. And the response to my own panic and apologies was not forgiveness, but “pay it off, work for it.”

For years, I had this deep panic of fault and mistakes in my life. The slightest little things, dropping a spoon or spilling something, would be occasion enough for him to attack me verbally. There was no forgiveness in the household I grew up in. And the saddest thing is, I only found out that people would forgive you small mistakes when I finally moved out.

I had to learn to accept the sentence. “It’s not a big deal.” I remember wincing everytime someone discovered that I made a small mistake, and being confused by the kindness the person responded with. I was used to tantrums and insults, not to someone helping me out and explaining what I did wrong.

It’s small things a narcissist, a manipulater, will teach you wrong. He will teach you that every mistake, every flaw you have makes you worthless. He teaches you that nobody will forgive you. He teaches you that you have to earn your right for a bed, a place to live, that you have to earn love and freedom and kindness. And when he’s gone, you have a hard time to learn that the world actually works kinda different. You have to accept that you are allowed to live peacefully, and it is a long way, a difficult way to that peace. But when you take your time and give yourself the permission to be weak sometimes, you’ll heal eventually.

I did too.

© Amelie Albrecht 2021-05-23

Hashtags