It’s old post night, so this one’s getting recycled again too. Ever watch a narc having an emotional meltdown after a narcissistic injury? It’s not a pretty sight.
Here was one of yesterday’s search terms:
vomiting after seeing ex.narcissist begging me back
Really now? The narc’s begging you back actually made you puke?
But yes, I can definitely understand it though.
Sometimes those over the top emotional displays when you take away a narc’s source of supply by leaving them are pretty nauseating to say the least. I don’t know if it’s “acting” or desperation or what, but I know it’s not “love.”
I remember back in my 20s, witnessing the incredible reaction of a malignant narcissist boyfriend when I finally worked up the courage to tell him I was leaving him.
This was a verbally and sometimes physically abusive man who treated me like dirt most of the time, made fun of me, tried to turn my friends against me, and cheated on me as well. I had waited far too long to disconnect from him. I…
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They’re everywhere. They’re all over Facebook, they’re all over Twitter, they’re all over Pinterest. They’re texting their mushroom and goat cheese manicotti at the table next to yours, they’re trying to show you their Tabouli salad with ginger vinagrette in the passenger seat while you’re driving in heavy traffic on the Interstate, they’re waving their Samsung Galaxy smartphone with its Pokemon motif wallpaper in your face demanding you look at the Beef Wellington or curried chicken with beet juice they had last night whose remains are now now probably being further broken down into their elements in the septic system.
Food pictures. They’re the new “this is me at a party with my cool friends” pictures. The cooler looking the food, the cooler people who post food photos think they are.
It’s an insidious illness, this obsession with showing off the edible substance you put in your mouth so your body can survive. Now I’m doing it. At least tonight I am. Because tonight I had the best pizza I’ve ever had outside of New York City. One slice is as big as an entire pizza, big and oozing with cheese and tomato and dripping amber colored grease down your chin and onto your new Gap T-shirt and down your wrists into your sleeves. And it was effing delicious. It’s from a pizzeria called Four Brothers and they really are four brothers who run the place and they’re from Brooklyn. That explains why it’s so good–and totally justifies my being an obnoxious, annoying “look what I just ate” jackass. That’s my photo of it up there.
This makes me laugh now, but at the time I was doing anything but laughing.
In 2011, when my parasitic MN/ASPD ex was still living on my couch, he decided he wanted a dog.
We already had a dog, Dexter, who was an awesome black lab mix (he lives with my daughter and her fiance now). The house I live in (and lived in then) is tiny. At the time, we had Dexter and 5 cats. Far too many animals for a two bedroom house, but these were pets I cared about, so I wasn’t too bothered by the overpopulation problem in the house.
But oh no, a dog and five cats wasn’t enough for the Parasite (which is his new name as far as I’m concerned so that’s who he’ll be from now on). No, he had to have his OWN dog, one that HE picked. I told him we had no room for another pet, and it was already too expensive feeding and…
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An oldie but goodie about a complete tool and malignant narcissist I dated for a short time.
I remember one of my narcissistic lovers. He was a textbook example of a malignant narcissist, and a mean one at that. Although he never became physically violent, I think he would have if I hadn’t ended that relationship.
One of the strangest things about him was the way he gave me gifts. The guy had plenty of money–he had a trust fund, for heaven’s sakes and owned his apartment free and clear, and he was always traveling. He never asked me to go with him though. Instead, he’d bring me back “gifts” from his road trips. I remember he’d make a big show out of presenting me with these gifts as if he was giving me the keys to a new car. They were never wrapped nicely, but always stuffed in a paper or plastic bag.
So what sort of gifts did this narcissistic trust fund jerk give me?…
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Credit: Allthetropes.com
What the…! Guys, I just got offered an opportunity that completely blew me away. It has to do with this blog, that’s all I can say. I feel like I’m dreaming. I can’t say anything else right now but you will all find out very soon!
I cannot, cannot, CANNOT believe this. This can’t be real, but it is.
Cliffhanger episode to be continued…
Katie has done it again! I could relate to every single word in this post. I could have written this myself. There’s no need for me to editorialize any further.
Please leave comments on the original post.
I’ve never been a risk taker. At all. But there’s one exception–blogging. I take a lot of risks when I write and often post things that are:
1. Extremely personal and potentially embarrassing
2. Controversial and potentially incendiary
3. Unpopular opinions
3. Religious or political (though I try to avoid this because I respect all my readers, some of whose beliefs may differ very much from mine).
I’ve never regretted taking risks on this blog. Yes, some of my posts have angered some people. I had to learn to deal with that. At the end of the day, it’s my blog and my opinions and my feelings and my experiences. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I am not in real life, and I’m certainly not going to pretend to be someone I’m not when I’m blogging. Sometimes I feel like the blogging world is the only place I can really be myself.
Popular opinions are a dime a dozen, but when you post something not so popular, you never know who you may reach who really needed to hear what you had to say. You feel good about yourself for having the courage to be authentic and candid. That tends to extend into the real world after awhile.
Being ballsy also tends to make your blog stand out, and I think that’s a big reason this blog has become somewhat popular. Even if people don’t always agree with you, they’re always checking in to see what you’ll say next. You don’t get popular by being a blogging wallflower. Just make sure you really stand by what you say and be prepared to defend what you believe while still remaining respectful of those who don’t agree with you or dislike what you have to say. If you’re just stirring the pot to get attention, people can tell.
Being a ballsy blogger has gotten so much easier over time. Outside of a few trolls and critics, none of the terrible things I imagined would happen ever did. I no longer hover over the “Publish” button for hours wringing my hands and sweating and asking myself, “should I?” I don’t keep posts hidden for days as “Private” only to delete them later. I hardly think about it any more. I just press that Publish button and don’t look back. And I’ve never regretted it.
Don’t let the laid back sound of Sheryl Crow’s voice and music fool you. This 1998 pop song is about a relationship with a narcissist, after she has been devalued and discarded. I heard it the other day in the car, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, so I’m making it this week’s Monday Melody. I’ve posted the lyrics below the video.
I made up the bed we sleep in
I looked at the clock when you creep in
It’s 6 a.m. and I’m alone
[Chorus:]
Did you know when you go
It’s the perfect ending
To the bad day I was just beginning
When you go all I know is
You’re my favorite mistake
Your friends are sorry for me
They watch you pretend to adore me
But I’m no fool to this game
Now here comes your secret lover
She’d be unlike any other
Until your guilt goes up in flames
[Chorus:]
Did you know when you go
It’s the perfect ending
To the bad day I’d gotten used to spending
When you go all I know is
You’re my favorite mistake
You’re my favorite mistake
Well maybe nothin’ lasts forever
Even when you stay together
I don’t need forever after
It’s your laughter won’t let me go
So I’m holding on this way
Did you know, could you tell
You were the only one
That I ever loved
Now everything’s so wrong
Did you see me walking by?
Did it ever make you cry?
You’re my favorite mistake
You’re my favorite mistake
You’re my favorite mistake
Lucky Otters Haven 
