Today, something hit me after reading a brilliant, yet sad essay by a clinician sound the alarm about our Emperor Without Clothes. Dr. George McAuley, MD basically made the case for why we all should be afraid as shit, and how “political correctness” and long-standing policies by the American Psychiatric Association prohibiting clinicians from diagnosing people without them actually being patients has prevented clinicians everywhere from boldly stating the obvious:
Our President is a narcissist with a psychopathic personality, suffers from paranoia, and is likely suffering from a personality disorder. You can see it. He’s on television daily. He tweets daily. He talks daily. His behavior makes it very hard to dispute.
We don’t need a clinician to diagnose him. Just google the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual and look up the symptoms and behaviors associated with personality disorders (paranoid personality disorder, bipolar disorder) for yourself. The signs are gravely obvious to those of us concerned with the mental health of a person instead of taking the flawed position of securing a political party win or rather blocking the opposing party from winning.
I needed to take a step back for a moment. This is a little personal for me.
If you can see the connection and admit it honestly, politics aside, then I fear you too. You’re an enabler. You’re enable an prospective abuser, and you’re just as dangerous as the person inflicting the emotional and physical abuse.
From the moment I heard this man speak and saw his behavior in person on television, I knew he Mr. Trump was ill. I knew he was because I was raised by a man just like him. Because the man I describe acts the very same way. This man is 2-years younger than the President, but the behavior they both display is classic. It’s undeniable, and it’s dangerous.
This man is my father.
So much tragedy.
There is so much tragedy here.
Anyone who has had the grave misfortune of being in any kind of long-term relationship with a malignant narcissist knows one a mile away. You also know people in the path of the narcissist spotted are catching hell.
As a child of a parent diagnosed malignant narcissist and bipolar disorder (prior to his diagnosis), I can’t tell you the amount of abuse I endured as a child.
My feeling stayed hurt.
The beatings with extension cords that left welts all over my body, and the punishment for not following his rules. The meticulous way things had to be done for his approval, and him always needing to have his way. The violence. Slamming doors, slapping my stepmother, and beating my mother to the point where she needed reconstructive facial surgery. The verbal abuse. The loud screaming that went along with the slamming of doors. And the bullying. My goodness, the bullying!
I still remember his booming voice when I was young. In defiance, I refused to be afraid of him like everyone else.
They hate that. That makes everything worse. But I didn’t care. I refused to give in to let him win. The best thing that happened to me was going to school and telling how terrible he was so that I could be placed the first time.
Child support (money) made him come back to get me. He violence (and inability to beat me into submission) caused him to dump me off at the child welfare office on a Friday afternoon at 4:50 pm. He screamed and bellowed to the social worker how if he couldn’t do with the what he wanted in the way of disciplining me, then they could have me.
And then he turned around and left me there. He couldn’t have his way. And when narcissist can’t get their way, they discard of you and get another thing. Or move on to the next thing.
I was 16 years old.
That was happiest day of my life. I was finally free. I would rather live a rough life all alone than to live with such a horrible person.
The social worker ran frantically after my father, like most people who don’t understand there’s no pacifying a malignant narcissist. After he refused to stop to acknowledge the social worker and leaving the child welfare office as if he was headed for a vacation, the social worker came back to check on me, then called her supervisor to report what happened to get the ball rolling to find me a new placement.
I had an extensive case file that started in middle school. They knew the drill. My case file came with photos of abuse and everything. At least there was proof. Sometimes narcissist don’t leave evidence of their abuse. Like verbal and emotional abuse.
As an adult I have tried numerous times to rekindle my relationship with my family in order to give my children the opportunity to know their blood relatives, and to help them see why I don’t fuck with my people.
The same disgust I have for my parents is the same disgust they learned to have for them, especially my father. They have tasted his bitter fruit, and they have chosen not to eat from my father’s tree. There are no winners here, everyone loses. And I mean everyone.
When my father helps you, he gloats about it. He’s always the best, the greatest, and perfect. God forbid you give my father a flaw to harp on. Oh my goodness, he never lets it go. No matter the good he tries to do for you, he cancels it out with his behavior. It’s impossible for him to let well enough alone. His help is conditional, and so is his love.
When my father had his automotive business, the entire time he owned his 30- year-old business he could never keep anyone working for him for more than a few months because no one could fix cars to his standard. He would insult his employees so terribly I would just leave. I have watched grown men toss their tools and walk out the door.
My father would rarely work for anyone because he just couldn’t work for other people. He always needed to be in control. When he was in control of all things, the world stayed on his axis. He’d rather lose his business instead of getting help because his personality wouldn’t allow him to work with other people. He has no respect for people outside of his small circle.
I see similarities in how Trump treats people who work for him. No one leaves the same way they came, no matter how terrible they are. He chews them up and spits them up like a garbage disposal.
And let’s not start to talk about racism. My dad is a staunch reverse racist. And while he grew up in the South pre-Civil Rights Era, his racism and racist views are extreme. We all just ignored him. There was no need to argue with him. He won’t listen. He has his old-timey, antiquated views and no one is changing his mind. Whites are bad. All Whites. There are no good Whites to my father.
Sounds familiar? Reverse racism…yep! I grew up with it. Thankfully, I was blessed with a special force-field that protected me from White noise.
My father is not happy until he kills the spirit of everything around him, and then he can’t seem to comprehend why no one wants to be around him. People around have to muster up all they have just to make it through a day visit. Forget about holidays. It’s awful.
If he isn’t sucking up all of the air telling us about how great he was, he’s jumping into conversations and making them all about him. My sister went to visit him for 7-days for the Thanksgiving Holiday prior to leaving to go overseas on her last tour of duty for a 3-year stint before retiring from the Air Force. She had to leave after 2-days to go to Vegas because he made her cry the entire two days.
The rest of us knew better. We warned her. She didn’t listen. She got her ass handed to her.
Some people have too much faith in humanity and people, even when they show you who they are.
My father will be 70-years old soon, and no one wants to be around him except his mother. She pacifies him in an almost incestuous way which disgusts me. She’s his enabler. She made that monster. Sadly, his wife won’t leave him, but only because the law will penalize her by taking her retirement pension because he was self-employed and ruined his business when his mental illness and alcoholism became too much to manage.
So she’s stuck with him, awaiting his death. My heart goes out to her. I hate to leave her there with my father the monster, but she’s chosen what’s important to her, so I must save myself, my children and my grand kids.
And so, I’ve cut off all contact long ago, because it’s the only way to save yourself from these types of people. It’s very sad though because the thing these types of people long for (attention and love from people) are the things they are incapable of maintaining due to their own reprehensible behavior.
So when I see Donald Trump, as much as I hate him, I also understand him. I also understand why I dislike him so much, and why I fear for America.
He’s like my father.
When I hear Trump speak, I hear an arrogant, lying grandiose old man that sounds like my father. When I see his children, I wonder if they are just staying around for the inheritance? Are his children the staying around because they are his enablers covering up his mental illness? Family members may benefit from talking with a mental health provider who can provide help coping with family difficulties stemming from their mentally-ill loved on. I wonder if they are getting help coping with Trump’s madness.
I attended Al-Anon along with a few other services available to family members coping with loved ones with mental illness while my father was in and out of treatment until we got him under control. It was eye opening and scary. I’m grateful for the education, and now I’m hyper-sensitive to people presenting similar symptoms. Having had the life zapped out of me once, I must be careful so not to get another clinger on.
That’s why Trump is so familiar to me sadly.
I know narcissists need a life source to stay alive, and I can’t do that shit anymore. I know there is no cure for this mental-illness, only expensive medications and hospitalizations. It’s a merry-go-round of insanity for all involved. We just have meds to “manage” my dad’s illness, and everything depends on the his willingness to adhere to his prescribed treatment plan.
So much for that shit though. These types are never ill. They are perfect. They don’t need medicating. They are just fine. It’s torture living with these people. At some point, you gotta save yourself or be eaten alive.
I feel sorry for the people who work for Trump because I know they can never do anything right for him, no matter how hard they try and no matter how right they actually are.
I feel (a little) sorry Trump’s wife. She had no idea what she was marrying. She thought she was marrying a provider. She married for comfort. She married a maniac. And although she’s as racist as he is I believe, I also believe her ass bit off more than she could chew with that family.
It’s a great life lesson about chasing money and powerful men (women). Toxic people make everything around them toxic.
I feel sorry for America. Some people have put their hopes and dreams in a man who will never be able to give them the things he promised because he is a fatally flawed individual. Everything he does is about him, it’s never about us or the people that voted for him. When he needs his ego stroked, he gets his supply from his supporters, his kids (his apparent enablers and protectors), Fox & Friends, or those things and/or people whom he trusts.
Stress makes things worse for him. When things are worse for him, they will be worse for all of us.
Lastly, I feel sorry for all of us. We’re being abused verbally and emotionally. His enablers have their own reasons for allowing us to endure this abuse. What we have to learn in dealing with people like my father and Donald Trump is that you can’t deal with them. The gaslighting, the disrespect, the mood swings, the violence, and verbal abuse is not how decent, sane people are supposed to treat one another.
It’s unhealthy, and it has the potential to become deadly. Trump has access to weapons of mass destruction, and his impulsiveness along with his need for attention or desire to be seen as a brute could get us all fucked up. The entire world is in danger at this very moment.
The longer we all play with fire, the longer we simply prolong getting burned. You will not win. You’ll either leave this relationship with Trump with some form of abuse, or you will leave it broken, your spirit will be changed forever. There will be no winners.
And so when I see and hear Trump, I see and hear my father. It’s scary. It’s sad. And it’s painful. It’s hard to see someone as mean and horrible as a human being, but he is.
He could be my father. In fact, he is my father. He’s just rich, White and mentally-ill instead of being Black, poor and mentally ill.
And that’s why I feel sorry for Trump. It’s the reason I feel sorry for America.
We’re having a family mental health crisis, and half the country doesn’t even know it. Trump shouldn’t be the President of the United States. He really doesn’t possess the mental state fitness for the highest office of the land, period.
Trump’s just an old man who got his ass into some shit he’s incapable of handling. And now, the entire world can see it.
Marley K., 2018