tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650289478442133391.post8114537473729959239..comments2024-03-24T16:53:02.846-07:00Comments on Five Hundred Pound Peep: When Narcissists Ban Photos of YouFive Hundred Pound Peephttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05862707335431442713noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650289478442133391.post-24881837279458987702017-04-11T13:24:03.048-07:002017-04-11T13:24:03.048-07:00Photos have such a power over us - especially in h...Photos have such a power over us - especially in how we treat them. It works both ways - I don't have any photos of a narc sibling simply because looking at this person's face upsets me so much. I even destroyed family photos where I was included, because of my role in that family. I weep for that ridiculed, isolated little girl and had to leave no trace of her existence. Sad and sorry to admit this.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650289478442133391.post-61739658621127235812017-04-10T14:21:40.597-07:002017-04-10T14:21:40.597-07:00Wow that's sad they smashed your pictures or d...Wow that's sad they smashed your pictures or drew Xs through them. Mine knew I wanted pictures and denied them to me. Hope they weren't all destroyed. Yeah sorry you were more worried about your father and ignored what was happening to you. He should have stood up for you more, or if he was the one doing that stuff to the pictures too, it was very evil. Yeah, it can be a lot of work, I am having to "reformat" a lot and sounds like you are having to do the same thing.Five Hundred Pound Peephttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05862707335431442713noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-650289478442133391.post-16551011380160513992017-04-10T11:00:26.980-07:002017-04-10T11:00:26.980-07:00My family was a little different. Sometimes my or ...My family was a little different. Sometimes my or my sisters picture would be on the wall and sometimes it was smashed on the ground or had a big red X through it or sometimes it was pieced back together with tape and the X attempted to be whited out. The sick thing is, all my life, the real pain I felt at that was feeling sorry for the turmoil that my father was going through that made that happen and never felt sorry for myself for being smashed, x-ed out, forced back, smashed again. Honestly, I only just realized that now, writing it out that, as usual, it was all about HIM. He made his pain our problem, but in fact, it wasn't. It was his problem. And we could all use a little time to resolve our own problems. It's a lot of work sometimes, to go back through all the aeons of memories and re-sort, reinterpret, reassert yourself in them instead of leaving in place the screwed up horror movie that starred your parents and their precious feelings.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com