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When you hear the term Stockholm Syndrome, you might think of the well-known case involving Patty Hearst. In 1974, she was abducted by the Symbionese Liberation Army, who sought to use her as leverage against her wealthy father, newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst. Strikingly, during her captivity, Patty developed a bond with her captors, even changing her name and participating in their criminal activities, including bank robberies and extorting money from her father. Despite her defense of Stockholm Syndrome during her trial, she was sentenced to 35 years in prison, a sentence later commuted by Jimmy Carter in 1979—a rare win for a Georgia Democrat.
The term itself originates from a 1973 incident in Sweden, where four bank tellers were held captive for six days by two armed robbers. By the end of the standoff, these tellers had formed an unexpected bond with their captors. This psychological phenomenon, also referred to as terror-bonding or trauma-bonding, can manifest not just in high-profile cases but also within abusive relationships—and I find myself affected by it.
What Gave Me Stockholm Syndrome
The straightforward reason for my Stockholm Syndrome is my relationship with my narcissistic mother. A more complex explanation reveals a childhood lacking in genuine love and attention. My mother continually belittled and scapegoated me. I’ll never forget her words: “You didn’t have any friends at Rainbow [the name of my elementary school], and now you don’t have any friends here [in middle school]. It’s your fault.” I was constantly criticized for my lack of common sense, and driving home from riding lessons became a dreaded ordeal as she used that time to remind me of every mistake I’d made.
In families influenced by narcissism, one child often emerges as the “golden child” while the other is designated as the scapegoat. My younger sibling, who was named after my mother, basked in praise and was allowed to grow his hair long, while I was constantly reprimanded and had my hair cut short. This dynamic deeply affected my sense of self-worth.
Rev. Sheri Heller, LCSW, describes that in these situations, the unbearable betrayal of abuse forces the child to deny their reality. I convinced myself that I was at fault for my mother’s cruelty, trying to uphold the false hope necessary for survival. To cope, I had to accept that my mother’s actions, however irrational, were justified.
The Journey of Healing
This tangled web of emotional turmoil has led me to develop complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD), and I am currently undergoing trauma therapy. My primary goal is to separate my desires from responses shaped by traumatic experiences that pleased my mother, focusing instead on what I genuinely want for myself. Identifying my trauma responses is a crucial first step in this process.
For example, I thought I always wanted long, blonde hair because it was something my brother was praised for. But in reality, I wanted to please my mother. Similarly, I believed I aspired to be extremely thin, fueled by her compliments about my weight during childhood, which ultimately led to struggles with anorexia. Untangling these deep-rooted issues is challenging.
Confronting the Truth
Another critical part of my healing involves ceasing to excuse my mother’s behavior. This, perhaps, is the most difficult aspect. My husband often reminds me, “She did this to you.” I reflect on moments like when she failed to call on our son’s birthday, recognizing the pain she has caused. When I find myself feeling pity for her, my husband reminds me of the hurt she brought upon me. It is easier to dismiss my pain than to confront what she has done.
I sometimes worry she will read this and label me as ungrateful, dismissing my experiences as exaggerated. Yet, she spent decades calling me a horrible child, and I doubt this article will change her perspective. Narcissists thrive on attention and often distort the narrative to portray themselves as victims.
It raises questions: Is my mother simply a product of her own upbringing? Can I hold her accountable for a psychological disorder beyond her control? These thoughts complicate the struggle to separate my needs from hers, a battle that is emotionally exhausting.
Finding My Own Path
Overcoming Stockholm Syndrome means striving to distance myself from another’s needs and ceasing to justify their abusive behavior. This process is incredibly challenging. Unless you’ve experienced the unique struggles of a child of a narcissist, it’s hard to grasp the difficulty of crafting an authentic self outside the confines of a parent’s love. My husband admits he can’t fully understand my journey.
Some days I feel overwhelmed, and others I find myself consumed by anger. I often think of a line from Bruce Cockburn: “I’m gonna kick the darkness till it bleeds daylight.” It’s a mantra that keeps me pushing forward.
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Summary
In this personal account, the author reflects on their experience with Stockholm Syndrome, stemming from a narcissistic upbringing that left them struggling with feelings of inadequacy and trauma. Through therapy, they aim to disentangle their desires from the trauma responses instilled by their mother, while grappling with the complexities of accountability and healing. This journey highlights the challenges faced by children of narcissists in finding their authentic selves and breaking free from a cycle of emotional manipulation.
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