I live in a duplex with a shared parking area. I’ve had new upstairs neighbors for a few months. They are youngish hipsters (probably in their mid 20s) who seemed okay at first. When they moved in I wanted to make them feel welcome, so I gave them a bottle of locally made wine (knowing that as hipsters they would probably like such a gift) which was pretty expensive too, and offered the use of my front porch anytime.
It seems like my efforts at goodwill didn’t mean much. They fight every night (it’s always him I hear) and are completely uncooperative in every way you can imagine. Or at least the guy is.
I never see the fiancee, who is supposedly an artist of some kind, but the guy has proved to be a passive-aggressive d**k. His behavior seems to indicate severe, possibly malignant, covert narcissism. I wonder if his fiancee is so silent and invisible because she suffers from PTSD.
First was the problem I had with their cat. They have two Himalayans, and for about a month, one of them was always sitting in front of my door and would try to get inside whenever I went to open it. My roommate told me this cat would be sitting out there all day on one of the porch chairs. It seemed like they expected us to take her in, and maybe they thought I was a “crazy cat lady” because there are already 3 cats in this small apartment. My daughter’s cat, BabyCat, has anxiety and territorial issues, and was beginning to act very sketchy and neurotic, compulsively grooming and meowing anxiously whenever the neighbor’s cat was outside my front door, which was most of the time.
I called my neighbor about the problem and he said snottily, “well, we can’t keep her upstairs, because she doesn’t get along with our other cat, and she doesn’t like being inside anyway.”
Well, then, idiot, why don’t you re-home her? I didn’t tell him this. He did nothing. The cat was still outside. She was dirty and unkempt and it looked like she was never fed. I called him again a few days later and left a message. I got no response. Being an animal lover, I hated the fact I had to start chasing her away, but what else could I do? Even if I could have taken in another cat, which I absolutely can’t, he probably would have been angry about it.
One day he saw me chasing the cat away from my front door and gave me a look that could kill, so I knew he was mad (he probably thinks I’m “cruel to animals” even though I’m anything but. But after that, I didn’t see the cat again.
Not their cat, just one I found on Google but the expression on this cat is epic.
Now I’m dealing with the parking issue. They have two cars, and between myself, my daughter, and my roommate, we have 3. So there a total of five cars parked in a space that can really only hold three. The neighbors are environmentalists and don’t want to “ruin the grass”, even though they have never once mowed it (mowing the shared large front yard and the back yard falls on me, or whoever I can get to do it–and their side of the house is covered with 3 foot tall weeds). So what they do is they park both their cars on the gravel, and don’t bother to angle their cars so that I can get out easily in the morning (I have to back up over the gravel driveway to get out). This guy is completely uncooperative, as you can see from these two phone conversations. His tone seems snotty and entitled to me and he’s a liar too.
First text conversation:
He was lying. I could hear him and a bunch of their friends upstairs. They never did move the car, and the next morning I almost hit it trying to back out.
In the second text conversation, the last message got sort of messed up, but I was trying to explain that I couldn’t use the other entrance because that goes into the parking area of the apartment complex next door, and they don’t want us to drive through there so it’s usually blocked off. I would be forced to drive through the yard to get around that. So backing out is really the only way.
Second text conversation (this was today):
I finally got him to agree to angle his car differently so I can get out, but not until I threatened to call the landlord about the problem (that part can’t be seen in the text conversation, because I told him this over the phone) and that if he didn’t start to angle his car, I would probably hit it trying to get out.
I hate the way this narcissistic brat is forcing me to resort to threats and aggression. That’s not me at all, but it’s the only thing that seems to work with him, and the fiancee might as well be a ghost because I never even see her at all. I wonder if they’ll make it to actual marriage.
Any ideas? I really don’t have any. I might not write anything today and get out instead. I’ve been sitting in the house too much, and there’s always so much to do that isn’t inside your four walls.
But I always feel guilty if I don’t post something. Maybe I can find a nice meme or photo. Or write about whatever it is I wind up doing today.
Here are some other things I could be doing (that don’t involve things like laundry, shopping, or cleaning the house).
— Reading. There are 3 books I’m currently trying to finish.
— Reading other blogs and catching up on commenting. My track record for this is ABYSMAL and it embarrasses me.
— Drive somewhere nice and walk around
–Take myself to a movie or something else fairly cheap and fun.
— Write up a new post anyway. Maybe tonight though.
What would you like to see a post about? Put your ideas in the comments.
This was a real thread started on an NPD forum.
You can too! I spent ten years in and out of therapists’s offices. I was considered incurable and most of those therapists gave up on trying to cure me. I was practically black-listed by the APA! I didn’t want my narcissism anymore, but what could I do? I was desperate! I had no choice but to cure myself, and I found out how to do it! After months of study, I found a proven, simple, PAINLESS, 100% effective method of getting rid of NPD! I cured myself of my NPD in only three months, and SO CAN YOU! If you want your narcissism to leave you for good but are tired of being broke from the thousands of dollars you are forking over for know-nothing therapists who only want to line their pockets by making you feel worse, then you have NO EXCUSE not to order my proven ten step program which is GUARANTEED to cure you of NPD in 6 months OR LESS–FOREVER! Unlike those ineffective shrinks who are getting rich off your pain, my method is FUN and PAINLESS!
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The ten step method was a set of 12 CD’s and a booklet for $300 (paid in monthly installments) + shipping and handling
I wonder how many refunds this person had to “cheerfully” offer to gullible narcissists.
The thread was locked by a moderator for “spamming” and “shameless self promotion” as well as for “giving misleading information to the mentally ill.”
A little while ago, I went out to the store and while I was driving, I saw the moon rising and it was full and quite orange! I think this type of moon is called a “blood moon” or maybe a harvest moon.
The picture I took on my phone didn’t do it justice at all (and I could only zoom in a little), so I photo-manipulated it a little to try to recapture some of its allure. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to recapture the clearness of its “face” or edges. The background effect isn’t realistic of course, but I felt it made it a more interesting photo. I think this picture makes it look almost like the way the sun looks in space.
Last night I was temporarily able to get rid of the awful empty feelings I wrote about yesterday with a little “Cyclops Therapy.” 🙂
But it didn’t last.
I actually felt pretty good again until today. Everything just makes me want to cry. It’s not really depression; I’m not sure exactly what it is. It’s just this yawning empty sad feeling. I spent a little time trying to examine the feeling, taking it apart to try to understand it.
It’s like every good memory I ever had is somehow contaminated by sadness or some other negative emotion arising from the sea of emptiness that lies beneath. Once a good experience enters my long term memory, it’s shot through with painful longing and a feeling of great loss and even grief. Or sometimes it’s contaminated by guilt, or knowing that it wasn’t going to last–not having any idea at the time of what sort of disaster was waiting just around the corner. So my happy memories make me sad.
If you’ve ever seen the animated film “Inside Out,” you’ll know what I’m talking about. Riley’s long term happy core memories were in danger of being touched by Sadness (a character depicting that emotion) and a few already were, so Joy (another character) tried to intercept so Riley’s happy core memories would stay that way.
Thank God I see my therapist tonight. I really don’t know what all this means. Maybe I’m on the edge of another big breakthrough. I hope so!
My last post described the depression and emptiness I’ve been feeling with both the change of weather (because I have fall/winter SAD), and the return of painful feelings of emptiness triggered by the memory a perfect week long vacation now receding from short-term into long-term memory, its details beginning to fade and merge with other, more distant memories.
But sometimes you have to create your own joy. You have to find a way to have a good time right where you are. You have to build your own little enclave of joy within the confines of everyday reality.
All week long my daughter has been begging me to go to the North Carolina State Fair with her. I kept finding excuses: I’m too tired, it’s a weeknight, I have to be up too early, I’m too old to enjoy rides anymore, the food will give me indigestion. I sounded like I was 90 years old and ready to enter the nursing home!
Tonight I finally ceded, because she’s going out of town for four days and the fair will be over by then. She was already there a few nights ago and told me it was a blast. Why not have a little fun, especially as depressed as I felt?
I bought tickets, enough for a few rides. I wasn’t sure I would go on any, but I actually went on three. The first one, the Himalaya, is a ride I fondly remember existing when I was 18 and used to ride on it at Coney Island, the Jersey Shore, and Rockaway Beach in New York. I remembered it being fun and somewhat exciting but not overly intense. Back in the day, disco music was played during the ride; now it was EDM. But the ride itself has not changed at all and I found I enjoyed it as much as when I was 18, and I didn’t get sick either.
But that ride was tame compared to the next one I went on. It was called the Cyclops and I would never have gone on it except I was strong-armed into it! I was not given a choice! I stared at it for awhile in horrified fascination, watching the two circular, neon-lit ends spinning wildly while gradually going higher and higher until the people in them were almost upside down. And screaming. Resigned to my fate, I insisted on having the middle seat. Once the tickets were handed over and we were inside the gate and ascending the metal ramp, I shook with terror. What was wrong with me? I used to go on rides far scarier than this during my teens and twenties: the Zipper and the Hammer came to mind–rides so intense and potentially dangerous they have actually been banned in many places.
What finally gave me a little courage was an eager smiling seven year old boy ahead of me in line. Hell, if this little boy wasn’t scared, then why should I be? I felt grateful to him and hopped on into my seat. The operator pulled down the big metal restraint down in front of me and I got a tinge of fear again when the ride began to move. At first it wasn’t too bad, sort of relaxing even, but soon it got really, REALLY intense as the circular contraption I was in began to go vertical so I was sideways, looking down and spinning crazily at the same time. I lost my sense of bearings, and shut my eyes tight. I began to scream, “Oh shit! Oh Jesus! Oh shit! Oh Jesus” over and over and over. I could hear my daughter, who was next to me, laughing hysterically. I felt like my organs were being rearranged as centrifugal force alternately plastered me against the side of my seat, then the back, then pitched me forward so I felt like I was going to go flying out of my restraints and meet my death.
One end of “The Cyclops” reaching maximum intensity. At its peak, its riders are nearly upside down as the circular portion spins crazily.
“Open your eyes!” she screamed. “No way!” I yelled back, clutching the bars in front of me in white knuckled terror. I kept my eyes squeezed so tightly shut they hurt.
Slowly the ride began to slow down, and cautiously, I opened my eyes. I saw the fair down below, all the flashing lights of the rides and game booths and the people down below watching us from an insane angle. But it was bearable now and I could keep them open and look. I realized I’d been hyperventilating and my fingers felt numb and tingly. I was grinning like an idiot as I got off my seat and drunkenly made my way down the metal gangplank.
“You want to go on it again, don’t you?” my daughter teased.
“Maybe next year,” I said, and I meant it.
“Next year you have to promise to keep your eyes open the whole time,” she said.
I know I will next time, too.
I felt victorious. Passing through the throngs of other fairgoers on the way back to the car, I spied a snack stand. I needed a soda because my mouth felt like cotton batting, but I also wanted to try a fried Oreo. I’ve never had a fried Oreo before. It was artery-clogging and delicious. Another new experience.
These are the kinds of things that can relieve depression. Sure, great memories recede and fade, but they never leave you. And they’re not all that is. You can always make new happy memories. Riding the Cyclops tonight was something I’ll remember for a long time, and as scared as I was, I’m so glad I did it. I guess I’m not too old after all (but I’m glad I ate the fried Oreo after the ride and not before!)
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In my life, I’ve rarely experienced true happiness, of the kind I experienced during the week of August 21, when I was on the Florida Gulf coast visiting my son. I wrote a lot on this blog about the experience I had while basking in the warm Gulf waters and exploring the beaches and gazing at the unbelievable sunsets, and just being able to relax, forget my worries, and spend time with an almost 25 year old man who I love with a fierceness I reserve for very, very few people. I felt very close to the divine during that time. Even the 700 mile road trip going there and back was a sort of spiritual experience for me. Everything about that week was perfect. I never felt so much at peace with myself and the world. I felt somehow changed.
It occurred to me today that this weekend will be a month (4 weeks) since I began my vacation. It’s a cherished memory now (and one that changed me in some profound way), but is now receding ever deeper into the past, joining the other few happy memories I have, most which happened much longer ago than this. The memory is probably far enough in the past now that it’s no longer part of my short term memory but has now entered my long term memory.
While I’m grateful beyond words that I got to have this amazing experience, and know it won’t be the last time (I’m tentatively planning to return at the end of March), I feel a deep sadness that it’s over tinged with a kind of yearning to return there forever. Not so much because I miss the location of where I was, or even that I miss being in close proximity to my son (though I miss those things too), but the feeling of pure joy I had unfettered by anything else. Rarely have I felt that kind of joy and lightness, and when I have, it’s been fleeting, like the momentary reflection of the sun on a dragonfly’s wings.
It’s been said that you can’t feel sadness without having known what happiness felt like. Sadness is about loss. In my case the loss of that deep, pure joy is bringing me into contact with the abyss of emptiness that still lives deep inside me, heavy and dark and cold, like a barren wasteland in which a chill wind always howls and it’s always winter and where nothing ever grows.
I tried praying about it, for I know it was really feeling close to the divine that made me feel so full of joy, not the actual surroundings, but it was just so much easier when I was away. It’s hard to get that feeling back. I look around my surroundings here and am reminded of how much I hate this time of year when the days are growing shorter and the nights longer, and nature’s beginning to look tired and spent before going to sleep again for another winter. Being here, without the sun and the sea and the sand, so far inland, back in the daily grind of real life, just reminds me of all the heartbreaks and losses and disappointments and hurts that have contaminated my life and pockmarked my soul full of raw and gaping holes.
This feeling of sad emptiness is very hard to explain. I do suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) so that might have something to do with it, but I go through that every year. This is different. I feel like I’ve suffered a terrible loss, like a death, and like there’s no way I’ll ever feel that kind of joy again. I want to so badly and I know I will, but right now it feels like it’s forever gone.
I imagine normal people feel that kind of joy more often, even if they don’t all the time. I know I need to find a way to feel that lightness of spirit no matter where I am, but at the moment, I’m overwhelmed with this terrible nostalgia and sadness because my memory of that perfect week is no longer that recent and is quickly receding into the distant past, where details are forgotten or corrupted by other memories. For that one week, it seemed as if the emptiness inside me was filled for a change; now it’s just empty again.
I always knew the emptiness was there, but I was so emotionally numb and so used to it that I regarded it as normal. I didn’t really think about it; it was just always there. Now it’s nearly unbearable. It could mean that I’m close to diving into the void because it seems so much nearer than it ever did before. Maybe I’m closer to it because so many of my usual defenses have fallen away. Maybe tomorrow night’s session will be an interesting one; I’ve noticed that just before a breakthrough I become more depressed than usual.
I called my therapist crying today and left a long message about how overwhelmed I felt by this spiritual and emotional barrenness. I’ll be seeing him tomorrow; I guess we need to talk about it. I got a small taste of what it’s like to be mentally and spiritually alive and healthy, without any disorders, but the downside of that is that once you’ve seen heaven, reality seems like hell.
Lucky Otters Haven 