
My father, Thom Lee, is an abusive, vulnerable narcissist and has been my entire life. This may come as a shock to some of you because most of his narcissistic attacks are covert, and outwardly he can appear caring.
Narcissistic parents often rely on other family members, sometimes their children, for what psychologists call selfobject functioning- using other family members to help stabilize their own fragile sense of self. They need to use and abuse people to help regulate themselves. To insure the narcissist stays connected to these people (sometimes known as targets), narcissists use tactics like love bombing and coercive control (among other things).
My father’s abuse played out very quietly within my family. His abuse wasn’t recognized, and it certainly wasn’t talked about (until now). It wasn’t until I turned eleven or twelve that I started to question my father and fight back. Before that, I lived in a world of shame, uncertainty and low self-esteem. My mother was my only advocate.
After puberty, I raged against my father’s narcissistic abuse. I spit in his face in our garage and knocked his front tooth out in our kitchen. I didn’t know my father was a narcissist, or even what narcissism was, but I did know my father was an alcoholic.
As a young child my father would provoke me, confuse me, demean, devalue or belittle me, knock me off balance, shame or guilt me, embarrass me, or make me upset. By the time I was thirteen, he wanted to put me in Hanna Boys’ Center. After prolonged abuse, my father would then love bomb and make a display of it, showing everyone he was good father and that I was the ungrateful child.
Ephesians 6:4 “And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.”
In a very sad sense, I became fuel for my father’s emotional regulation when I was a young child. While the details of my childhood are my own, the broader experience of a child being used to meet a narcissistic parent’s emotional needs are very common in narcissistic families.
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Things my father has said, emailed or text me over the last fifteen years:
When I was working to repair his back deck in Sonoma with my brother: “Who knew you were smart enough to do something like that?”
“When are you going to get your life together?”
“Your nieces deserve better from you.”
“Mom asked me to keep the family together and I failed but you certainly didn’t help any.”
“I’m sorry you aren’t very loyal.”
“You’ve walked away from me so many times.”
When talking about his estate and my inheritance: “I don’t get mad, I get even.”
“If you only knew how sad my life is.”
“Everyone always walks away from me.”
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These quotes are the quotes of a vulnerable narcissist; however, if you still don’t believe that Thom Lee is a covert, vulnerable narcissist, watch the video below and tell me this woman’s description doesn’t fit my father almost exactly.
My father, Thom Lee, is a vulnerable narcissist but he can also shift into a communal and sometimes even a grandiose narcissism. Most people are familiar with grandiose narcissism but aren’t familiar with vulnerable narcissism, and they definitely aren’t familiar with communal narcissism (probably because communal narcissism was only first identified as a subtype in 2003).
To backup for a second, the disorder of narcissism has four subtypes: grandiose, vulnerable, malignant and communal. Researchers have developed a FLUX scale specifically to measure when narcissists shift from one subtype to the next. It’s my contention that my father shifts back and forth from communal to vulnerable.
Communal narcissists get their narcissistic supply from being seen as the helper or rescuer. Communals seek validation through kindness and generosity, and position themselves as the most ethical, selfless person (soccer coach). They’re great pretenders compared to the three other narcissistic subtypes. And while communals seem less threatening or less abusive, targets and / or victims of communal can attest to the notion that communals are every bit as abusive.
The Dark Triad of narcissism often refers to the three corners of the narcissistic triangle as Machiavellianism, psychopathy, and narcissism. As narcissists dance between the four subtypes, they also shift along the Dark Triangle. Communals, for instance, have less Machiavellianism than a malignant narcissist.
Dr. Peter Salerno below is doing some excellent work on narcissism. Minutes 20 through 35 are insightful.
The difference between covert and overt narcissism:
The difference between the two is pretty simple. Overt narcissism is what you can see. Covert is what you can’t. When a narcissist says, “Look how awesome I am,” that’s overt. When they think, “I’m obviously the smartest person in the room,” that’s covert.
In social settings, my father was mostly covert.
*Read next about the Scapegoat and the Golden Child in the post below.




