I Have Stockholm Syndrome

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Parenting

by Sophie Grant

July 27, 2021

Global Moments

When you hear the term Stockholm Syndrome, you might recall its most notable case: Patty Hearst. In 1974, she was abducted by the Symbionese Liberation Army as they sought a ransom from her wealthy father, newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst. During her captivity, Patty surprisingly began to empathize with her captors, adopting a new name, participating in bank heists with them, and even aiding in extorting money from her father. Ultimately, despite her defense team citing Stockholm Syndrome during her trial, Patty received a significant 35-year sentence, which was later commuted by Jimmy Carter in 1979. Go Georgia Democrats!

The phrase “Stockholm Syndrome” originates from a 1973 incident in Sweden, where four bank tellers were held hostage for six days by two seasoned criminals. When the standoff concluded, the hostages had surprisingly formed a “positive relationship” with their captors. This phenomenon, also referred to as trauma-bonding or terror-bonding, can occur not only in notorious criminal situations but also within abusive environments.

And I’ve experienced it myself.

What Led to My Stockholm Syndrome

The straightforward answer: growing up with a narcissistic mother instilled in me Stockholm Syndrome. The more complicated truth: my childhood was marked by a lack of genuine love and attention. My narcissistic mother constantly belittled and scapegoated me. I vividly remember her saying, “You didn’t have any friends at Rainbow [my elementary school], and now you have no friends here [in middle school]. It’s your fault.” I was incessantly told that I lacked common sense. I dreaded our car rides home from riding lessons, as those moments were filled with her critiques about every mistake I made.

In families with a narcissistic dynamic, one child often becomes the “golden child,” while another is designated as the scapegoat. My younger brother was favored, being named after our mother and showered with praise for his long, beautiful hair, while I was constantly criticized and had my hair cut short. This creates a psychological turmoil that’s difficult to navigate.

As Rev. Sheri Heller, LCSW notes, “The unbearable betrayal of abuse and rejection must be walled off and denied… The child believes it is their badness that is responsible for the caregiver’s cruelty. This offers false hope necessary to survival.” To cope, I had to internalize the belief that I was at fault for my mother’s cruelty, while she was justified in her actions. Each lie she told me and every failure she attributed to me felt true.

Moreover, I was compelled to normalize these “terrifying dynamics” to stave off psychological devastation. In simpler terms, if I didn’t convince myself that this madness was normal, I would have lost my sanity and hope for parental love, which was not an option for a child.

I still cling to that hope. This is why I find myself in a Stockholm Syndrome-like situation.

I’m Addressing It

As a result of this overwhelming mess, I’ve developed CPTSD: complex post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m undergoing trauma therapy, with the primary goal of separating my desires from the “trauma responses that please my mother” to discover “what I truly want for myself.” However, first, I need to identify my trauma responses.

For example, I always longed for long, blonde hair. But did I truly want that? No, I just wanted to please my mother, who praised my brother for his hair. Similarly, I aimed to be model-thin, not for myself, but because my mother valued my low body weight. Hello, anorexia. You appeared because I sought my mother’s affection. I’m still navigating the aftermath of that turmoil, and it’s incredibly challenging.

I Also Need to Stop Making Excuses for Her

Beyond addressing my trauma responses, I must stop caring about her. That might be the toughest hurdle to overcome. My partner often reminds me: “She did this to you. Remember when she didn’t call on our son’s birthday?” I need to reflect on how her actions affected our family, especially when she seemed to abandon her grandchildren after living nearby for two years. Whenever I think, “I feel sorry for her; she might not realize her mistakes,” he has to remind me of our kids’ feelings. While I can dismiss my pain, I’d fiercely defend my sons.

I worry that she’ll read this and think, “What an ungrateful child. Everything she describes is either a coincidence or exaggerated.” But she spent decades labeling me as such. What difference will this article make, except to provide her with ammunition to maintain her narrative? Narcissists crave attention and prefer to see themselves as superior, and scapegoating me as an ungrateful brat conveniently fits her story.

Perhaps she genuinely believes her perspective, and maybe someone else instilled this narcissism in her. Should I really hold her accountable for a psychological condition beyond her control? Is it a generational curse that I managed to break, leaving her as its unfortunate remnant? If that’s the case, can I genuinely blame her?

Remember Your Kids

This is the struggle of confronting Stockholm Syndrome: desperately trying to separate my identity from someone else’s needs while working to stop excusing their abusive behavior. This is incredibly difficult. Unless you’ve experienced being the child of a narcissist, it’s hard to grasp the challenge of finding one’s authentic self outside the narrow scope of longing for a parent’s love. My partner admits he doesn’t fully understand.

Some days, I cry. Other days, I feel rage. I’m seriously considering getting a Bruce Cockburn lyric tattooed on my arm: “I’m gonna kick the darkness til it bleeds daylight.” That’s all I can do.

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Summary

In this candid exploration of Stockholm Syndrome, the author recounts their upbringing in a narcissistic family, detailing the psychological impact of growing up with a mother who inflicted emotional abuse. The narrative highlights the struggle of separating personal identity from the long-held belief that one is at fault for a caregiver’s cruelty, emphasizing the journey of healing through therapy. The piece delves into the complexities of coping with trauma responses while also addressing the need to stop making excuses for abusive behavior, all while advocating for self-discovery and resilience.