My mother is a narcissist - and I only realised that after reading various threads on here from people who have had the same experience.
I can't actually remember my childhood, or at least only snippets of it yet I am constantly being told that it was wonderful, etc etc. But after realising that her memory of certain events (eg when I was at University I ended up having to support my parents financially for a while out of the Trust fund that my grandparents had set up - in her mind now, they gave me money) are a bit skewed, I'm not wondering how many other things that I "know" about my life are wrong? I'm not suggesting that we were abused or anything, but for years I had an idea about my childhood and now I'm wondering if it is real.
Another thing that she has done is to whitewash certain parts of my life, like my childhood sweetheart and fiance killing himself - he's not referred to as "that idiot that killed himself" and no, she is not angry on my behalf.
Everything, always has to be about her and my father panders to her by setting up conversations in which she is praised. If she is called out on a mistake she will shout and sulk and generally accuse the other person (generally me as I'm the only one stupid enough to confront her) of treating her as if she was stupid.
Only my brother and her are allowed to be ill. I mentioned that I'd been feeling a bit under the weather lately and her reply was that she had a bad back, headache etc. I had cancer many years ago and before my diagnosis I was frightened and told her my symptoms - she accused me of being a hypochrondriac. If it wasn't for my the boyfriend (now DH) forcing me to go to the doctors I would now be dead. However, the story she tells now is that she nagged me to go and I kept refusing. Same when I was diagnosed with asthma a few years ago.
It took me until I was well into my 30's to stop the thought patterns that I was useless and she was always right. The message that I have constantly got from her (and my father) is that I couldn't survive without them and it was only after I had therapy following the sudden death of my best friend that I started to doubt the stories I'd grown up with: that mother was always right, that I couldn't cope without them (actually the opposite is true) and that some people who she had judged harshly in the past for various actions weren't as evil as she portrayed and that her view of the world is completely, fucking warped.
Then MN came along and I realised that I wasn't the only person who had experienced these things. I just wish that I had been able to believe in myself when I was younger.