Girl Scout Cookies and God…

Frustration___Co_Production_by_ttancredi
Original art from Deviantart.com

It’s times like this my self esteem and progress in healing seems to take a dive into the toilet.
I don’t handle frustration well at all, and it can set me off on my old unhealthy patterns of negative thinking, feeling victimized, and wallowing in self pity.

I am having the tranny rebuilt on my car, and have just enough money from my tax return to have it done. Of course, God always comes through if you ask, and that’s what he did–but I still can’t help feeling sorry for myself because now I have to use my tax return to replace my tranny (and have a car that runs by the end of this week) instead of doing things I would prefer to do, like going to a few concerts or even planning a weekend trip. I know I should be grateful this happened now–when I have the money–instead of later on, when most likely I would not be able to afford it at all.

For the past two days, my roommate hasn’t been feeling well, so she has allowed me to borrow her car to get back and forth to work. Today I needed to get to the bank before they closed to deposit my state return and buy a few groceries. I live about a mile and a half away from the store, and the weather is nice so walking (which I would up doing) isn’t really an issue.

My roommate’s car wouldn’t start and we couldn’t jump start it with my jump start machine either. My daughter has a friend who was picking her up to go to the mall, and it would have been easy enough for her to drop me off at the shopping center so I could do my errands, but she said there wasn’t enough room in the car (there wasn’t).

So I walked, and instead of feeling happy that I could enjoy this beautiful and mild late winter day with the breeze in my face, I felt petulant and victimized instead. When they drove past me and didn’t slow down to ask me if I needed a ride after all, I felt angry and just wanted to give them all the finger. I know it was irrational of me because there were already 5 people in the car along with a baby, but I couldn’t help feeling like the victim again.

Now I’m cranky and depressed and just feel like sleeping away the rest of the day. Is this terribly narcissistic of me? I think it really is. I hate myself for feeling this way, and sometimes it feels like these sort of situations just make dogmeat out of all the progress I’ve made.

I know those of us healing from narcissistic abuse and PTSD have setbacks, but I still can’t help feeling like the way I feel is just wrong and selfish. So there’s guilt on top of everything else.

I knew I needed to blog about this today, as embarrassing as it is to admit how immature and childish I am behaving. I’m sure many of you have felt similarly in these sort of frustrating situations, even when they’re relatively minor, as this one is.

I need to focus on my blessings: my car WILL be fixed (even though it will set me back) and I had an opportunity to take a nice long walk on a pretty day. I also stopped and bought a box of my favorite mint chocolate Girl Scout cookies from some girls outside the supermarket. Think I’ll go indulge now. When all else fails, chocolate is great therapy.

girl_scoutcookies
This may be the best therapy at times like this.

Alaina’s epiphany

Alaina, one of my readers and a frequent commenter on this blog, wrote the incredible story of how she found God’s grace on a dark snowy night in Maine when she had lost all hope and was preparing to die.

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My epiphany wasn’t anywhere near as dramatic as Alaina’s–I could see her story as a novel or movie. I’m posting it not because of its drama though (God has a different plan for each of us–he appears in some lives more quietly) but because of how inspirational it is. My jaw was glued to the floor after reading it. I couldn’t help but think of the “Footprints” prayer.

Here is Alaina’s blog (about having PTSD). Please follow her!

On the night of January 14, 1990, I walked exactly 17 miles in a snowstorm down an isolated unplowed road not far from the coast of Maine, where I lived at that time. I know I walked exactly 17 miles because the next day, I followed my footprints in the snow in a car and that’s what the car’s odometer showed.

I had run out of the house to get away from my abusive husband, in terror for both my life and my sanity. I was emotionally very fragile, as a lot of things in my little world were unraveling at that time.

I half-ran, half-walked out of town until I got to the unplowed coastal road, where there was no traffic, no houses, no buildings of any kind, not even any electrical poles for many miles, just trees and more trees and lots of frozen snow and ice everywhere. When I got far enough outside of town to feel sure that no one could hear me, that’s when I began RAGING at God at the top of my lungs. About two and a half years had passed since I had left my job at Pat Robertson’s TV ministry, with my faith utterly destroyed, during that time when Robertson was running for President and the scandals of Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart and other big TV ministers were making headlines. I had stopped believing in God then for all kinds of reasons and – if God DID exist – then I was extremely furious at Him!

I walked for hours through the dark night, with no streetlights or any other lights in sight, just a hazy sliver of moonlight shining through the snow clouds reflecting eerily off the white wilderness that surrounded me. As I walked and raged through the deepening snow, my face, feet, hands, and ears grew numb and my knees began to ache and throb so bad, I felt like I couldn’t take another step. And yet I kept going, having made up my mind to walk until I keeled over and died of exhaustion and hypothermia. That was my crazy plan, to die out there in the frozen wilderness at the ripe old age of 36. But FIRST, before I died, I wanted to tell God, if He really existed, exactly why I was so damn PISSED OFF at him!

So I yelled about all of the evil and horror and pain and disasters in the world. I yelled about children and tiny babies who suffer and die of cancer and other horrible diseases, I yelled about evil wars, I yelled about hurricanes and earthquakes and wild fires and tornadoes that kill and destroy, I yelled about rape and hate and trauma and abuse and mental illness and poverty and hunger and broken hearts and broken families. I yelled about every single thing I could think of to yell about that was wrong in the world, and I yelled about every single thing I could think of that had ever gone wrong in my life. I yelled and I yelled and I yelled at the God I did not believe in, with snow blowing in my frozen face and crunching under my aching feet and knees. I yelled and I yelled and I yelled until I finally yelled myself out. I had yelled about everything I could think of to yell about, there was nothing left inside me, not one damn thing.

At that point, feeling utterly empty and depleted, I kept walking, because there wasn’t anything else to do. And that was when my epiphany happened. It was as if a veil had been drawn back and I was given the temporary ability to see, feel, and sense what was already all around and within me, something too big and overwhelming to discern in ordinary time, with ordinary human senses. I did not see any visions, I did not hear any voices. But I felt: GOD. A huge presence, a great reality, as real and palpable to me as anything I have ever seen or felt or sensed in my entire life, before or since. God was simply THERE, in everything and through everything, part of all of reality, even, somehow, a part of me. And God’s huge, overwhelming presence was overwhelmingly perfect: perfect love, perfect goodness, perfect peace, perfect holiness.

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I was not given any answers to any of my questions, not a single one. There were no rebukes or rebuttals for anything I had yelled at Him through all those hours and miles. God just simply WAS, and God was perfectly GOOD, and God absolutely LOVED ME, unconditionally and completely, through and through, in spite of – and maybe because of? – everything that was “wrong” with me.

Not only that, but I got the very strong impression that God was letting me know that He understood, 100%, everything there was to understand about me. He “got” me. He “got” why I was the way I was, He understood why I did the things I did. God knew even those things about me that I did not know about myself, things that I have either forgotten or never known. God knew and understood and He loved me perfectly, faults and all!

Then I heard the sound of an approaching diesel engine. I did not want anyone to see me, because I knew I probably looked like hell – I had been sobbing during a lot of my yelling at God, and I have never been a pretty crier, my face gets all red and puffy and my nose runs. I have literally scared myself just by looking in a mirror after I cry. So, before the headlights of the approaching truck came around the corner, I slipped and slid off the road and hid behind a thick stand of trees.

The truck pulled up right beside me and stopped. Then I heard a male voice call my name.

It was an old Canadian lobster man by the name of Delwyn, a man I had just met and barely knew. He said he had wondered why I wasn’t at the AA meeting in town that night (although I had only recently started going there and wasn’t sure if I would continue). He said that all during the meeting he had a strong, nagging feeling that he needed to go look for me, that I was in trouble. When the meeting ended, as he was driving home, he noticed a lone set of footprints beside the road, heading out of town. So he had followed my footprints. Who would have guessed that my guardian angel would be an old weather-beaten lobster man?

He drove me to my home, and I have never had a drink of alcohol since that night.

However, I continued to be an agnostic-almost-atheist for the next 13 years. I did not come back to being a Christian until 2003!

grace

Alaina wanted me to put in a disclaimer about the possibility what happened to her could have been due to severe PTSD. I’ll just copy her next post.

I don’t know why my epiphany was so dramatic, maybe God took pity on me because of all the unusual amount of trauma I had lived through, who knows? And it’s crazy that I still did not call myself a Christian for the next 13 years, and even today I STILL have some doubts! Because honestly, nothing in my almost 62 years of living on this earth has ever seemed as real to me as this experience, and my second near-death experience that happened a little over 3 years later.

The problem is that I kept wondering if it was just me being crazy and imagining these extremely vivid occurrences, because… well, mental illness does run in my family, plus I had that 2-year post-traumatic breakdown when I was 14 – 16 years old – although, even during that time, I never once lost touch with consensual reality.

Still, it’s a terrible thing to go through so much trauma and to have such terrible PTSD as a result, that you get to a point where God could appear to you in a burning bush and you will be like, “Yeah, right, like I’m going to believe THIS is real. 🙂

But yes, to answer your question, feel free to use this as a post if you want, I am honored. Also, feel free to attach a disclaimer if you want to, about my mental health… However if you do that, you may also want to include the fact that after my last divorce was final in February 2003, I took my settlement money and checked myself into a mental health clinic, where I had to pay my way with cash, as I had lost my health insurance in the divorce. (I could have paid cash for a nice little house with that money, and I even had the house picked out – but I realized that having a nice house to live in, with me being so miserable that I wanted to die, was not going to do me any good, I needed some real HELP.)

Paul Meier, MD, is the founder of the psychiatric clinic that I went to, in Richardson, Texas. Dr. Meier, who I believe has several doctorates to his name and has been a psychiatrist for about 40 years, plus he has authored or co-authored over 80 books, many of which were best sellers, and he has been on the Oprah Show – Dr. Meier himself ordered a full battery of psychological and physical tests for me, and when he gave me the results of all of my tests, he said that I had severe PTSD and general depression and anxiety, and that I may also have something that he called Cyclothemia (However you spell it? It is a mild form of bipolar disorder, which my doctors since then have decided that I do NOT have, they say I only have the PTSD and depression/anxiety). Dr. Meier told me very definitely that, despite my almost two year incarceration in an insane asylum as a teenager, that I am NOT psychotic, I am NOT crazy, in fact he said that I am amazingly normal, considering my life history.

Dr. Meier is the one who told me that having a PTSD reaction to overwhelming extreme trauma is NORMAL, just as it is normal to bleed if you are stabbed.

So, yes… I realize there is always the possibility that the two most profound and vivid experiences of my entire life were somehow a result of something going briefly haywire in my brain. But I have been certified SANE, and I see a therapist regularly who also says I am sane.

“Children of God”: demonic cult disguised as Christianity

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David Berg, founder of the Children of God.

Talk about wolves in sheep’s clothing! David Berg, a malignant narcissist extraordinaire, who believed himself to be the Last Great Prophet of God and called himself “Moses David,” founded the hippie-like Jesus cult, the “Children of God” (a/k/a “The Family”) in 1968, as part of the well-known “Jesus movement” of the late 1960s. The Children of God (from here on, abbreviated CoG) believed in millennarianism, the “last days” and Biblical prophecy. Like almost all Christians, they worshipped Jesus Christ as their lord and personal savior. What’s so bad about that, you say? It’s just garden variety fundamentalist, evangelical Christianity, right?

Well, yes and no. Berg gradually began to incorporate very un-Christian, unbiblical principles into his cult and even re-wrote the Bible as he interpreted it. He believed sex was a God-given tool meant to be used by humans to get closer to Him.

Many religions accept sex as a good and beautiful expression of love within the confines of a marriage or a close and committed relationship, but in this cult, promiscuity and “free love” was okay, because it was a way to commune with the Divine. It was okay for a woman to masturbate and “come” for Jesus. They were encouraged to be “God’s Love Slaves.” Baby Boomers and younger members of the Silent Generation who had already become used to the idea of free love and sex with multiple partners were at first attracted to this “understanding” guru who loved Jesus but encouraged them to indulge in their carnal desires.

But it was their Generation X children who were about to really be exploited.

Illustrations in CoG literature and its Bible were cartoon-like (in the Jack Chick style of cartooning) and sexually explicit. Some involved children and S&M scenarios. Some of the illustrations are shown in this documentary series, so if you’re offended by sexually explicit drawings or pornography, you may want to be aware of this before you watch the videos.

Families were regimented, children were raised separately from their parents and raised by nannies (similar to the way the Hebrew kibbutz is run). Children were raised communally by nannies, while their parents spent their time focusing on their spiritual (sexual) relationships with one another and most of all, with Jesus.

But things got even worse. Eventually children themselves were drawn into the depraved sexual activities of this cult, and were encouraged by Berg to be used sexually by adults, even as young toddlers, to “connect” with one another and in the process become closer to God Himself.

Survivors and especially the adult Gen-X children who grew up in this destructive cult were badly damaged and suffer from PTSD and other serious mental conditions, and in some cases committed or attempted suicide.

Here is the video series–it’s in seven parts, but I have only posted the first installment. From there, you can click on the rest. This is very scary stuff.
The cult still exists today under their new name, “The Family International.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ud4Z9xkre6g

Here’s another video that focuses more on Berg and the cult itself, rather than survivors who are trying to cope with the aftermath.

Reblog: “Why is my Life so Rotten?”

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My friend and fellow narc-abuse blogger, Fivehundredpoundpeep over at Blogspot, wrote this heartbreaking post today.

She’s far from alone. I think all of us ACONS have felt this way, some of us for our entire lives. I know I have until very recently, and I still feel this way more often than I let on. It’s gotten better, much better lately, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this feeling of well being is TEMPORARY and before I know it the rug will be ripped out from under me. Of course thinking that is as unrealistic as thinking I’ll be singing and dancing and grinning like a fool for the rest of my life (even if I was raised in a normal home, that kind of upbeat perkiness just ain’t in my nature as both an Aspie and someone probably biologically prone to bottomless depressions–the narcs just exacerbated what was probably natural to me anyway). But I just don’t trust anything good. Is that because I feel like I don’t deserve anything good, because my abusers said I didn’t? Can’t I just enjoy these strange new feelings without QUESTIONING them all the time, or wondering if God is playing some cruel joke on me?

So here is her post. If anyone who comes to this blog has any suggestions for her, please post them in the comments or over on her blog at Blogger. http://fivehundredpoundpeeps.blogspot.com/2015/01/why-is-my-life-so-rotten.html#comment-form

Why is my Life so Rotten?

Dear God, Tell Me Why It Went So Bad.
Sometimes even a Christian wonders why so much is going wrong. I don’t buy into the Christianity that tells me if I have enough faith the piles of money will show up like Joel Osteen but sometimes I am serious wondering why the suffering quotient is going up so high. My husband bless his soul too, has been shaking his head regarding our collective misery. I have to pray about what is becoming of me and seek the spiritual answers too.

Sick And More Sick With No End
Why was I on antibiotics for three weeks, [swollen saliva glands] and then got a leg infection this week? That scares me. Maybe the doctor’s aren’t calling me back because they are stumped too. All Aspies hate making phone calls, I can cry from the stress of trying to get something I need from neurotypicals. How pushy should I be? Should I yell at them yet? Will I offend them and ruin the medical relationship? Did I say the wrong thing? I may tell my doctor who knows I am an Aspie, that I can’t take it anymore and want extensive refills on my antibiotics.

If anything the antibiotics should have prevented a leg infection. I did not have any leg infections for a year and a half. I felt free and like I had hope, only now to realize that has now passed like a fart in the wind. I did my Flexitouch every day, except 1 day when I had the flu for 7 months. I wrapped without fail. Why am I being punished for something I did not do? I worked hard to keep my legs from being infected. I don’t want to go back to the leg infections slamming me, and being afraid everyday. When they hit it is like the worse flu on earth and 4 days ago, I got a revisit to flu land with a high fever and pain. Will they even believe me? Or will they think I was not compliant when I was to the max?

Typhoid Mary ruined what little good in my life there was. I am sure by now she is on another tens of thousands of dollar cruise, enjoying her life. She would cry if she had my life and was forced to give up recreational shopping and traveling. I am sure as I almost puked my guts out this morning from stomach acid run amuck and handed two-thirds of my income over to keep a roof over my head–my husband pays the other bills and put the check in the manager’s slot yesterday, that Mommy Dearest is busy shopping from her second home in a warm state and going out to eat and enjoying her life. Fun for them, and constant misery for me. Why?

Why did I win the CRAPPY LIFE AWARD? The only people suffering more then me are in prison or the street. I even watched Intervention the other day thinking, look at those thin bodies, and their families still love THEM with a feeling of jealousy. I know people aren’t supposed to feel sorry for themselves. I have to smile and act with it, so I don’t scare people away in the regular world and since this is my blog why not be honest. I know nice people around here who have helped me, and don’t want to stress them out more. How did my life become such a mess? Every one I know who hit my age, got at least one break. Where’s mine?

I’m supposed to start a new lung medication today but afraid wondering what else will go wrong?

Nothing but Endless Disappointment
I have gotten to a place where I expect disappointment. That is not good. I have prayed to God incessantly about what to do about my rotten life and have hit a brick wall. I am sad and upset about many many things.

Self-help and endless advice books do not provide the cash or decent body I need to be happy. Every time I relax and get happy inspite of these things and it has happened on occasion, it’s like the rug is pulled out from underneath my feet. There is a void in too many places I can’t seem to fill. There are things I want to do that keep getting thwarted. My life is one where I am too tired to do everything and crying in frustration about all my undone tasks and people I have failed. The literal physical exhaustion is wearing me down, and I fear a totally bed-ridden life awaiting.

I don’t want to be Aunt Scapegoat with her head hung down, and the black cloud growing and sitting alone one day staring at a wall totally broken. I am scared. I do not want to be her. I fear spiritual destruction at the hands of my Job-like existence.

What happens to someone who is an outcast mentally whose body is an enemy from hell? Now I understand why people do drugs and drink themselves into oblivion. I don’t recommend this of course but this world sometimes has so much sadness on the menu.

For seasoned ACONS who I know read my blog, please tell me if this can be the stresses of no contact. A lot of people disappointed me within the FOO beyond measure. Why can’t my brain stop ruminating about it? Am I buckling under the pressures of my year and half into no contact, having to walk away from the majority of my family and severe disabilities and financial problems combined? What if I am tired of having to be strong?

I Need Something To Look Forward To.
I need something to look forward to. Why can’t I have ONE THING to LOOK FORWARD TO? I have hope in heaven but I need SOME HOPE in this life. I do not think it is wrong to pray to God for some hope in my earthly life too or even just a time of respite. If I was a normal healthy person, I would hit the road right now seriously, go somewhere warm, go find some FUN. Hey I could do this now but it would mean not paying the rent and flirting with homelessness. There must be some reason I keep telling my husband as a joke, or maybe it’s not a joke, “Lets run away!”

All 12 step programs warn about the geographical cure not working but sometimes you just feel trapped. You want an escape from the grind. Some people with jobs may say “Every day is a vacation for you! Shut yer trap!” but everyone needs time away.

Positive Thinkers Prattle On
The positive thinkers would tell me, “you’re not thinking positive enough”, this is why nothing but bad things happen to you. In other words, the whole you are creating your own reality. But the inverse of that is they are just like my narcissists who told me everything bad happening is my fault. Both things are wrong.

I’m sick of thinking everything is my fault. I am sick of being told if I do this, that and this, that the results will ensue. I spent three hours a day on my stupid legs for the last year and half and my bad leg still betrayed me. Why don’t I get good results? I am sick of waiting for the hammer to fall, for the car to break down and the streets awaiting. I need a break.

If you were my life coach, what would you tell me?

Here was my reply:

Peep, I don’t cry easily but this post just did it. I have for most of my life felt exactly the same way–down to just about every detail you talk about here. No, I don’t have your health problems but my whole life I have felt like a failure, a loser, someone with no talents, no skills, painfully shy because I’m aspie, paranoid, feeling like God (who I wasn’t sure I even believed in) was putting me up as a joke, an “example” to others of how not to be. Like you, I looked at other people’s families who actually loved them and gave them the life tools they needed and wondered why mine were so cold and distant and disapproving of me. I was suspicious of everyone’s motives, and always, ALWAYS under the thrall or spell of a malignant narcissist. Sometimes more than one at a time.
I didn’t realize that was the whole problem–that and no perspective. Sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees.

There are many days (most days) I still feel like a colossal failure, but because of blogging I may have (MAY have) found my purpose. I don’t get paid for it but I have a good feeling about it.

That’s where I think you are headed too, Peep. You are a brilliant, entertaining, heartfelt writer, with one of the best blogs I’ve seen on narcissism. Either that or your art. Your paintings are beautiful and you can write. Perhaps you can write a book on Amazon – it doesn’t cost anything (I don’t think–I have to look more into that) but I think your story would sell. You could even illustrate it with your wonderful “fat lady” paintings. Your life may have been painful but I think there is a purpose for everything–and God gave you this life in order for you to help others, and I think that’s going to be through writing or art, or both.

I don’t know if this would work for you, but I know I want to write a book at some point. I really feel like God is showing me my path that I have searched for all my life, and my difficult past was meant to prepare me to write about it and help others once I helped myself.

I’m not trying to be a know it all, Peep or tell you what to do, but I really think you already know this and are ready to take that next step. Don’t give up on God (not that you are)–we don’t know what his motives or timetable are, and all I can really tell you is there is a plan, you have not suffered this all in vain.

You are fortunate to have a husband who loves you too, one who understands your Aspieness, who is not a narcissist–lean on him for support. That’s a real blessing.

But don’t feel bad or guilty about feeling depressed. It just means you’re human and are reacting the only way you can to all the insanity you have been subjected to. But it WILL get better. Never lose hope or give up. You have helped so many with your blog and your story.

My stupid hypervigilance again.

paranoia

On Thanksgiving, I wrote about the lovely dinner my roommate and I had at my daughter Molly’s boyfriend’s home (which is where she’s living now when she’s out of jail). It’s a pretty big place–an older home, probably built in the ’60s, 2 stories, with a spiral staircase, large open rooms, a living room lined with floor to ceiling windows that face a view of the mountains, and two large decks. It’s really beautiful. My daughter really lucked out.

I also was surprised how intelligent and nice Paul is. We talked a lot, about many things, and he admitted he loved Molly. It’s obvious to me he’s the first boyfriend she’s ever had who really cares about HER, and isn’t just using her. I think this relationship can be great for her, and she’s happy with him too. So what that he’s 38 years old? He’s mature and has a good job and income, wants her to resume her education, and if things work out, they can have a good life together. Hell, I’d much rather her date a 38 year old who has all his shit together than some 22 year old do-nothing meth-head with no goals or prospects living in his parents’ basement or crashing on a friend’s couch because he can’t even keep a job as a gas station attendant. Which is the type of loser she dated before. She actually didn’t think she deserved any better, but she’s finally realizing she deserves so much more.

Meanwhile her MN father, Michael, has been living at the Salvation Army and hasn’t learned jack shit or changed one iota. He’s the same whiney, entitled, obnoxious, demanding, parasitic, gaslighting, narcissistic jerk that he was when he leeched off me for seven years after our divorce. He nearly sucked me dry, financially, mentally, emotionally, and every other way you can think of. Until February this year I didn’t have the guts yet to tell him to get a life and get the hell out of my house.

I understand why Molly feels bad for him (after all, he’s her dad and she loves him), but she shouldn’t feel guilty about his unfortunate circumstances. He’s done it to himself. And yet, he has made her feel like she’s responsible for his well-being. From the time she was 12, he was treating her like his personal therapist and drug buddy, and attempting to use her to triangulate against me. His actions, among all the other obnoxious and evil things he did, damaged her psyche badly. I still can’t quite determine if she has low-spectrum NPD or severe BPD, but she definitely suffers from both bipolar disorder and PTSD.

But she’s getting better. Things have come to a head these past few months, between her squandering her trust fund, her car accident, and now having to serve time in jail for 30 days (she will be out the day before Christmas). She’s learning some hard lessons about consequences.

So what do her N father and her new apparently mentally healthy boyfriend have to do with each other? Well, Michael is moving in with Paul. Paul’s house is large enough that he will have his own floor, and Paul and Molly will be on the downstairs level. This worries me. Michael always seems to luck out. Narcissists usually do. I’m not envious of him (and am sort of glad he’s no longer homeless because I’m not a total heartless bitch), but this development worries me for two reasons:

1. He has an uncanny ability to turn people against me, even people who have been my friends. I know he trashes my character behind my back, projecting his own character flaws onto me, making ME out to be the narcisistic abuser. If he’s living in the house with them, in my dark fantasies I can imagine him turning Molly against me again, and Paul too. I hate the idea of the only family I have in this state turning against me due to my malignant narcissist ex husband who is living with them.

2. When Molly is around him, he has proven to be a bad influence on her. It’s true he has no car and no way to get around or drive her anywhere this time, but in the past he has been involved in buying drugs with her. Paul doesn’t do drugs so there’s probably nothing to worry about. But Michael’s influence is still a negative one, and his constant presence will push Molly’s buttons in ways that will make it more difficult for her to become independent of his malignant influence.

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Probably nothing will happen though. Paul’s doing him a favor and he is paying rent (out of his disability). The intention is not for him to stay (but getting rid of him is easier said than done, I should know!) Molly is okay with this arrangement. Michael has his own floor, and will probably stay busy ranting on political forums like Huffington Post and trolling on conservative websites. The rest of the time he’ll be watching the news or blasting his awful music. It’s more likely someone like Paul may tire of his presence and after a while want him out. It’s also possible Michael may just stay to himself and not bother them much.

As a person with Aspergers and an ACON (and one who was bullied both at home and by my peers during most of my childhood), I’m terribly jumpy and hypervigilant, always expecting the worst, never seeing the cup as half full, always expecting everyone will hate me, and worrying myself into a hair-pulling, twitching frenzy over the the most innocuous things. Every day I worry I will hear bad news, that one of my kids will die, that I’ll find out people are saying bad things about me, or even plotting against me.

I could be on the most beautiful, serene beach in the world, and instead of enjoying the sand and sun, I’ll fret about getting skin cancer even though I’m wearing SPF 4587 sunblock on every inch of my body. I could be in a room filled with people I love, and only be able to think about the one person who didn’t say hello and let that ruin my day. That’s where my head is at. The world seems so dangerous and hostile. I’m extremely paranoid. I find it very hard to relax and just enjoy things.

I know I must not worry and try to let this thing go. I think Paul is too smart to allow Michael to convince him I’m a narcissistic bitch even if he trash talks me 24/7, which he will probably do (or maybe not). Paul already knows me and Molly has told him good things about me. Besides, I already warned Paul that Michael will probably tell him all sorts of horrible stories about what a terrible wife and mother I was. Paul laughed and assured me if that happens he will tell him to stop talking that way, because he doesn’t want to get involved in our family drama and wasn’t a witness to it. So I guess I just need to stop worrying and being so hypervigilant and paranoid.

Let go and let God is good advice. I need to get in the habit of trusting my friend God more. Everything will work out. It always does, somehow.

Losing Ethan

gate

Someone once said to me it’s stupid to worry about something bad happening, because if it does happen, you’ve lived through it twice, and if it doesn’t happen, you wasted your time and caused yourself needless suffering. On a cognitive level, this makes perfect sense, but when it comes to mothers and their children, rationality flies out the window. At least it does for me.

Some people think I’m an overprotective mother, even though my children are both grown. And it’s true: I worry excessively about something horrible happening to one of them. I still hate the fact my 23 year old son lives more than 600 miles away in another state, and drives every day. If I don’t see he’s been on Twitter in more than a certain number of hours (he practically lives on Twitter), I start to panic. Sometimes these feelings of dread get so bad I almost wish I never had kids so I didn’t have to experience that kind of intense anxiety. I know it’s neurotic as hell to fret so much about my kids’ safety and there comes a certain point when a parent has to let their children go off and be adults, but still I can’t help worrying.

They say losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a person. I don’t doubt this. I love both my children with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns and if something happened to one of them…well, I think I would probably lose my mind and most likely kill myself. How could I go on living? I just can’t see how someone could carry on after losing their child. Obviously they do though, and I marvel whenever I see a bereaved parent somehow accepting their tragedy and moving on with their lives. I’m amazed when they can talk about it without dissolving into sobs. But I don’t think I would be able to ever accept it and move on. If I didn’t kill myself I think I would cry for the rest of my life, become catatonic with unbearable grief, and the dudes in white coats would have to carry me off in a straitjacket.

Sometimes I have these dreams of something happening to one of my children. They are awful. I just woke up from one, and after breathing a sigh of relief it was just a dream after all, I decided to blog about it, before it faded away into unconsciousness the way dreams tend to do.

I had to pick up a few groceries from the store. My son Ethan, about eight in the dream, came along with me. Sitting in the front seat next to me, he chattered in his little high pitched voice about school and other things 8 year olds like to chatter about. Strangely, it was also the present time, and I was the same age I am now, with the same vantagepoint on my life I actually have now, but that sort of thing happens in dreams.

We were driving down a country road, and must have taken a wrong turn, because soon I realized the road was a dead end. At the end of the road we saw a high wooden fence, and it was closed. Past the fence was a single police car, with its blue lights flashing. But I saw no police officer or anyone else. It was parked in the middle of a thicket of weeds and wildflowers, and when I looked closer I saw that no one was in the car.

police

Ethan, being a curious 8 year old boy, wanted to see what was going on. Before I could stop him, he had taken off his seatbelt and was out of the car, running like lightning toward the gate. I called to him but he didn’t hear me. I got out of the car and began to chase him, but he had already worked the latch and was running into the dark woods beyond the meadow. The police car was no longer there. It hadn’t driven off, it simply had disappeared!

I called and called Ethan but he didn’t return. I ran through the open gate and almost tripped on rocks and a few times before I reached the woods. Running into the darkness of the forest, I kept calling him, but all I could hear was my own voice echoing back to me, as if the forest was taunting me. I waited. And waited. It seemed like an eternity but was probably just a few hours. Ethan never returned.

Weeping from panic, I walked back to my car and drove home. It was getting dark out. I’d completely forgotten the groceries, but I didn’t care. Who needed groceries when Ethan was gone?

There were people I didn’t know living in my house, but in the dream I knew them. The man who was my dream-husband listened to my story. Although I had no “proof” Ethan was dead, somehow I just knew. Still, I needed someone else to reassure me he was okay (or confirm my fears). Not knowing is worse than knowing. So hesitantly, I asked my dream-husband, “Do you think he is dead?”
He nodded.
“What do you think happened to him?”
“I think the cop did something with him,” was the reply.
I felt like I had died inside. It was horrible and so surreal I wondered if I was dreaming, and that was when I woke up.

I’m wondering if other parents have these kind of dreams or if they worry as much about their adult children as I do. I’ve Googled this problem and haven’t found much about it, so sometimes I think it’s just my PTSD and tendency to be overly anxious and fretful. I walk through life expecting disaster every moment. I probably need therapy.

Targets and Victims

victim

I found another blog today written by a survivor of a sick family of psychopaths and sociopaths (I’ve added the site to my list of resources under the “Info and Support” tab in the green bar in the header. I know I’ve written about this before, but this is one of the best lists of the traits of potential targets and victims of psychopaths I have seen yet. I have just about every single one of these traits, unfortunately. From an early age, I was trained to be a doormat. I learned that lesson too well.

BEFORE: TRAITS of a Potential TARGET

Below are the traits most commonly attributed to a sociopath’s target. Every person is inherently different, and that includes each target and the traits that are most pronounced in the individual. An individual would definitely not need any of these traits to be preyed upon.

This is not an attempt to diagnose anyone.

Shyness
Difficulty communicating
A lack of self confidence
Wanting to please
A belief that if you love enough the person will change
A belief that if you love enough the relationship will succeed
Difficulty establishing and maintaining boundaries
Not being able to say no
Being easily influenced by others
Wanting to be rescued from your life situation
Wanting to rescue others from their distress
Being over nurturing particularly when not asked
Feelings of shame and self doubt
Low self-esteem
A lack of memories about childhood or periods of adulthood
A lack of motivation from within and being motivated by others

AFTER: SYMPTOMS of a Relentlessly Abused VICTIM

This is a very accurate list of symptoms experienced by someone who has had their psyche brutally victimized by a sociopath. With that said, this list is not all-inclusive, nor is it intended to be part of any diagnostic function, whatsoever. These symptoms can also be triggered by many other conditions or events.

The source of this data is from ongoing research, but the majority of the data is derived and confirmed from personal experience … the key word being “majority” There are some symptoms listed here that I have not experienced at all, though they have been mentioned enough for me to accept them as potentially common.

If you, or someone you know, has experienced even a few of these symptoms, seek professional help. Keep in mind, though, that not all “help” is equal. If the professional you choose does not seem to relate to your needs as you would expect or desire, keep looking.

Emotional paralysis
PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)
Suicidal thoughts or actions (indirect homicide)
Loss of interest in life
Loss of energy
Insomnia
Anxiety
Depression or Severe Depression
Numbing of feelings
Disinterest in having a relationship
Panic attacks
Irritability
Increased anxiety from being alone
Increased anxiety from being in crowds
Mood swings
Source: sociopathicstyle.com [confirmed by personal experience (50+ years)]

Things I’ve learned lately

In writing this blog I’ve learned a lot about myself and my FOO and how it has affected my life and relationships. In reading back over this blog and thinking about narcissism so much, I’m shifting my views on some things. Not all of these discoveries are easy to swallow and I’ve been in denial about a few of them.

— My mother is by far the most malignant narcissist in my family with the most profound effect on me and others who have had the misfortune to be in a close relationship with her. She has managed to recruit almost all of her extended family and even some on my father’s side to do her bidding as her flying monkeys. I am her prime target, although not the only one. She is a powerful psychopath without a soul. If she could get away with murder, I think she would.

— My ex, asshat and parasitic loser though he may be, is a drug addict and alcoholic and though definitely a narcissist, is less malignant than I had thought (or at least not as bad as my mother). I’m not making excuses for him because there is no reason to, but being at a safe distance now, I can see him as a sort of hybrid of a narcissist and a mentally ill victim of one (is this possible?) This realization is based on some of his behaviors that do not indicate narcissism but rather, plain old mental illness and addiction (although narcissists are likely to become drug addicts and alcoholics). One thing that definitely doesn’t fit the narc profile is the fact he has always sought therapy (although his motives for doing so might have to do with narcissism). His diagnosis of PTSD and Bipolar aren’t entirely off base. His mother was a malignant narcissist though, and he learned a lot of those behaviors from her. I’ll write a longer post about him at a later time.

— My father is also on the narcissist spectrum, and he has always been in thrall to malignant narcissist women. At times he has been their victim, but mostly he enables and makes excuses for what they do. I feel sorry for him.

— I was set up to fail.

— I am pretty sure my daughter is on the narcissist spectrum but she is also an intractable drug addict. It really hurts to realize her “conscience” may be fake and she really doesn’t care about anyone but herself, because I love her so much, but I can’t hide from what some of her behaviors point to. Drug addiction can cause a person to act in narcissistic ways, too, especially if they’re desperate for a fix. I’ll write more about this another time. It’s pretty hard to deal with.

— I wasn’t a very good mother. I put my own needs first a lot of the time, and always treated my son like the golden child, and still do. Of course, he is making better choices than my daughter, so I don’t have to worry about him as much. Ten years ago I was much less self aware and more self-involved than I am now. I think that was because I was under my ex’s thrall (even though he’s not as high on the spectrum as I had thought).

— I have a lot of narcissistic tendencies, but I used to be worse. Envy is something I have struggled with my entire life. But even though I may envy people who seem to have more life blessings and sometimes (secretly) feel bitter about feeling so deprived in comparison, it’s never occurred to me to sabotage them or try to take what they have from them. I’m not proud of having this character flaw. Narcissists don’t feel shame about being envious, and think nothing of trying to take away what others have. I also deal with feelings of guilt and shame a lot in general so that reassures me I’m not on the spectrum.

— I find it hard to be 100% candid about my feelings on this blog. I’ve noticed I write in an intellectual way and seem to avoid emoting on this blog too much. Some of my posts sound like I’m writing about someone else. Distancing myself and intellectualizing everything is how I’ve managed to remain fairly sane. This isn’t really a good thing though because it blocks me from digging deeper to the source of my pain and in so doing, keeps me trapped in a state of numbness and ineffectuality. Multiple Personality Disorder and other dissociative disorders are just more extreme ways of distancing from “I.” This probably indicates PTSD. I’ve become too good at hiding my sensitivity behind a mask of detachment. When I was younger, everyone said I was too sensitive, now no one does. Even my mother has gone from calling me “too sensitive” to calling me much worse (and I always hear about this second hand from her flying monkeys and other family members she has “confided” in). In real life, I don’t trust anyone and am painfully shy. Hardly anyone knows anything about me. I hardly ever cry and smiling doesn’t come naturally either. I blend into the scenery because I’m so quiet and people assume I’m just not very friendly. Some people think I am stupid because I never have much to say and because I’m too afraid to take a side in any argument and also because I get so lost in my head I don’t always seem to be aware of what’s going on. I long to reach out, but my Aspergers, PTSD and lack of trust combine to make me almost mute in social situations.

–I took the Myers-Briggs test online on two websites and came out as INFJ on one, INTJ on another. Both of these seem to fit. But I think inside I’m definitely leaning more to (F)eeling but use (T)hinking as a mask.

This is what I was born to do.

borntodothis

Writing has always been what I’ve excelled at more than anything else, but because of the emotional and mental damage done to me by my psychopaths throughout my life, I never pursued it seriously and always felt I didn’t know what I should be or do. At an early age I started to believe I wasn’t much good at anything anyway.

These are the lies and half lies that were told about and to me by the various psychopaths who got to control me (some are based on half truths):
1. Suzanne is smart, but will never excel at anything because she doesn’t apply herself (true, but I didn’t apply myself because I was told I couldn’t do anything).
2. She is too sensitive to make it in this world (you can be sensitive and be successful).
3. She doesn’t make friends easily because she has a terrible personality (I am shy and not very social but I do not have a terrible personality).
4. She’s negative and lives on the pity pot so she will never achieve anything (this has been true at times).
5. She’s lazy and unmotivated and always gives up (see # 1).
6. She doesn’t stick with anything long enough to get really good at anything (see #1).
7. No one wants to be around Suzanne because she’s such a Debbie downer (depression and PTSD caused by being abused by psychopaths).
8. She isn’t any good at office politics (This is true).
9. She should have become a nurse or a teacher because then she’d always have a good job. (I am totally unsuited for nursing and teaching).
10. If Suzanne was thinner she would be more successful and get better jobs (I have never been seriously overweight so this is a lie).
11. If Suzanne smiled more people would like her better (probably true, but smiling doesn’t come second nature to me–I am working on that).
12. She’s stupid and has no common sense (I am not stupid but it’s true I can be a bit of the “absentminded professor”)
13. She’s insane (insanity implies someone who isn’t aware of their own actions or motives or is deluded–I suffer and have suffered from major depression, C-PTSD, autism and avoidant personality disorder. These are not “insane” diagnoses).

You get the idea.

yousuck

The closest I ever came to having a writing career were my two jobs as an editor–I was a technical writer and editor back in the late 1980s, then became a copy editor and later associate editor for a medical journal from 1989-1991. My job included writing a one page regular column, and I also used to write freelance reviews for self help and pop psychology books. These were all good jobs but none paid well. But honestly, I didn’t really like what I was doing (except for writing the book reviews). It was a very corporate environment and there was a lot of office politics so I was never 100% comfortable there.

After moving to North Carolina in 1993 after my second child was born, I never again had a job even remotely related to publishing or writing, and I thought I never would again.

I wrote a novel in 2003 but it was rejected by several publishers (and my narcissist mother said she hated it and I wasn’t ready to write a novel) so I put it in a box in the back of my closet and never looked at it again. It embarrassed me. So from then on I limited my writing to posts on forums or comments on other people’s blogs. I believed I had forgotten how to write, and even worse, I thought I lost my creativity. I never seemed to be able to come up with ideas anymore. What was really happening was I was so terrified of failure (and so brainwashed by my abusers that I always would fail) that it was just safer to never try anything new or take any risks. If I never tried anything, then I couldn’t really fail, could I? Why have ideas if you’re never going to act on them?

That’s faulty logic though, because if you never try anything new, accept a challenge, or take a risk, you may not fail at any activity but you will fail at life, and that’s a lot worse.

One of the benefits of freeing myself from the psychopaths in my life is occasional unexpected bursts of inspiration, and that’s how this blog came to be. Now that I write something every day, my creative muscle is strengthening and I feel like new ideas pop into my head several times a day now. I thought I’d have trouble even coming up with one post a day, but most days I have ideas for two or three. Blogging is something I should have started years ago; it might have led to something bigger and maybe even become a career.

But you know what? There’s no reason why it still can’t. I feel like I finally found my purpose after so many years of feeling like a lost ship without a rudder. I have a good feeling about it.

writer

A match made in hell: Narcissists and HSPs

bullies

Two of the hottest psychological topics on the Internet right now address two personality types that are virtually on opposite ends of the behavioral spectrum: narcissism/psychopathy (or more specifically, NPD), and HSPs (highly sensitive people). I think there’s some significance to this. For reasons no one seems to understand, Highly Sensitive People seem to be thrown together with Narcissists more than you would expect by chance alone.

Neither personality type is especially common: people with Malignant Narcissism (NPD) comprise approximately 4% of the population in the United States; HSPs comprise about 20% making them somewhat more common–though they may seem less common than they really are because they’re often hiding in the shadows and rarely call attention to themselves. Many HSP persons have learned to stuff their sensitivity and emotions because (besides having been shamed for it), high sensitivity doesn’t work very well in the narcissistic and materialistic society we are currently living in–a society where qualities like aggression, social gregariousness, bluntness, impatience, and indifference to the suffering of others are far more valued than qualities like civility, deference, intuition, shyness, and empathy. Aggression and gregariousness are especially valued in the worlds of business and politics. Face it, you’re not going to find a great job (or any job at all) if you call attention to the second group of qualities and may well be regarded as weak and ineffective. Politicians who appear too empathetic, tolerant, gentle, or soft spoken rarely win elections. That’s why liberals keep losing elections. It’s my observation that those with more liberal ideologies are usually better educated, but also by nature are more empathetic and care more about the plight of the less fortunate. Let’s face it: narcissism wins elections, and that’s why the country’s in such a huge mess.

But this isn’t about politics, and I don’t care what your ideology is. I don’t want to stereotype political ideologies based on personality, because there are conservatives who are also sensitive, and liberals who are anything but. I’m referring more to the people in powerful political positions, not the people who vote for them.

Highly Sensitive People have a number of characteristics that make them vulnerable, especially to people with NPD, and all too often HSPs find themselves either being raised by psychopaths, or married or otherwise in serious relationships or friendships with them.

You may be an HSP if…

1. You were bullied in school; the bullying may have become a pattern throughout your entire schooling. Maybe even as an adult, people like to “mess with you” to see if they can get a rise out of you.
2. You had imaginary friends or spent a lot of time in “imaginary worlds” of your own making, or you were often accused of daydreaming by your teachers.
3. As a child and perhaps later into life you cried easily and often. You may have been a “difficult” or sickly baby or toddler. HSPs do seem more prone to serious allergies and childhood illnesses more than other people.
4. You never were “popular” but prefer to have deep friendships with one or two like-minded people who may also be HSPs.
5. You dislike crowds and may not really like parties or other large social gatherings.
6. You’re a deep thinker and enjoy reading and studying about whatever interests you
7. You may prefer to spend time alone over social activities
8. Family is important to you, insofar as you have a workable relationship with your family.
9. You are very easily hurt and sometimes can’t let a cruel joke or comment roll off your back the way others can
10. You dislike negative or chaotic environments because you feel like you can pick up on the negative emotions of others around you.
11. Your own family may not understand you, thinking of you as a black sheep or a failure. They may even reject or bully you if there are Narcs in your family who have chosen you as the family scapegoat.
12. You feel overwhelmed easily when you’re forced to deal with others, especially negative people.
13. You may feel you relate better to animals than to people and that they even understand you better than most people.
14. If bullied or scapegoated by Narcs, you may approach life with a hypervigilance that may border on paranoia.
15. Because of your giving, empathetic nature, you find yourself attracted to those who abuse you or use you.
16. You put the needs of others before your own, and may sabotage your own happiness or success in the process.
17. You get very upset when you hear or read news stories about children, animals or adults who have been abused or killed.
18. You may have decided to stay away from reading or listening to the news because so much of it is negative and upsets you.
19. You may have reached the point where you feel no one can be trusted (but it’s in your nature to still want to trust others and give them the benefit of the doubt).
20. You are prone to deep depressions and feelings of despair (sometimes this manifests as irritability and grouchiness), sometimes these depressions are not explainable by any personal situation; you also have the ability to feel the heights of pure joy when you feel in balance with the world around you or with those who truly care for you and love you unconditionally.
21. You may be attracted to the performing or visual arts, or to poetry or creative writing.You may well have a talent in these endeavors. You also may have a strong interest in spiritual and metaphysical matters.
22. You may have an intuition so strong it borders on psychic ability–you may be able to “read” the emotions of people you have never even met before, or even deduce what type of situation they are facing in their lives.
23. You may feel you can detect the presence of the supernatural
24. You may feel strongly you do not fit in the world very well and that you have poor survival instincts.
25. Most importantly, when dealing with a narcissist, you may have the ability to hone in on their true nature, and see how horrifying it really is, both to the Narc and to others.

I want to extrapolate more on #25, because it’s at the core of why Narcissists (the natural bullies of the world) are so attracted to HSPs (the natural empaths) and why they so often wind up in their unholy psychological death dance together.

It’s a Love/Hate dichotomy.

Narcissists have a love/hate relationship with the HSP. What the narcissist sees in the HSP is a person who wants to trust, is easily manipulated (because they always like to give the benefit of the doubt), easily taken advantage of, and shows their hurt when wronged. They see a person who has insight into why other people tick, and are self-aware and introspective. More than other people, they can easily be coerced into blaming themselves if things go wrong because they can be shamed or embarrassed so easily. They are unlikely to attack the narcissist (at least at first) and they crave love and acceptance.

What the HSP sees in the Narcissist is a person who seems strong and in control of things; at first this may make the HSP feel safe and validated when the Narcissist is love bombing them to woo them into a relationship. Since Narcissists are usually quite aggressive when trying to rope in the HSP into commitment, making all sort of promises to the HSP that sound wonderful at the time. Soon, the HSP falls in love with the Narc and the match from hell is conceived.

The dynamics in a family with an HSP child raised by a narcissistic parent are different, because no love-bombing phase is required (except when the child is an adult and threatens to leave or go No Contact with the Narc parent). Shortly after a HSP child is born, the Narc parent quickly realizes this child is vulnerable and can be used as their narcissistic supply to boost themselves up at the expense of that child. Often, the Narc parent will coerce other family members (often siblings of the HSP) to act as “flying monkeys” in the bullying of that child. Unfortunately, such children are so sensitive they are often bullied at school as well, and the child may feel there is no safe place of their own. As a result, they may turn inward, creating imaginary friends or worlds in which they can escape. My mother hated it when I went inside my head into my imaginary worlds, and punished me for acting “spooky.” I couldn’t help it though: it was the only “place” where she could not get to me.

Narcissists live in terror of being exposed.

Narcs hone in on high sensitivity and are both attracted to it and despise it. The vulnerability of an HSP and the Narc’s ability to bully them temporarily makes them feel better about themselves (the only way they can feel good about themselves is by putting others down because they know they have no “true self”–more on this later), but they also hate it and envy it, because it’s this very quality of high sensitivity and empathy they know they do not possess, and worse yet, they know it’s possible the HSP could one day use that quality to expose the narcissist. Narcissists do not feel anxiety the way most people do, but the prospect of being “outed” one day for the monsters they actually are behind their mask of normality and sanity is incredibly terrifying to them.

But why is the psychopathic narcissist living in such terror of being exposed? After all, they think they’re better than everyone else, so why would it bother them?

The answer is horrifying. If they are exposed or “outed,” they are forced to look into the mirror–and what looks back at them in that mirror is not a monster, not an ideal self, not a demon, but something worse: a black, endless void of nothingness. There is nothing there, under the mask they wear. In effect, the masks they wear are what they have become, because inside they don’t exist. And yes they are evil. Evil isn’t badness; it isn’t the opposite of good. Evil is the opposite of somethingness; evil is pure black nothingness. In their desperate attempts to fill the void, they take on superficial behaviors and attitudes they think they “should” show the world–but they are fake. There is no real self there. Ergo, everything they think they are and everything they say is a lie. They are the People of the lie.

Are Narcissists born that way, were they made that way, or did they choose their path?

I don’t believe psychopathic narcissists were born this way. I don’t believe in “bad seeds,” like the demon child Damien in “The Omen.” In fact, I think all children start out as blank slates with the potential to become good (or bad). I think Narcs often have abusive or neglectful parents who fail to mirror the child in a positive way when they are very young, and as a result, not being able to mirror the parent in return, they don’t develop a true self and spend their lives trying to mirror the people they come in contact with and HSPs make this mirroring easier for them. Unfortunately by this point it’s far too late for them to internalize the mirroring of the other person, and so it never infiltrates beyond the surface. This explains why the Narc will act like they are the most understanding and caring person in the world when the HSP first meets them, but since they never internalized the behavior, it’s not really part of them and they quickly move on to abusing the HSP because deep inside they envy and hate the same behaviors they have so recently “mirrored.” Narcs cannot be helped in traditional therapy because in order to reach them, there has to be a self there to be reached, but Narcs have lost their true self, or it’s become so deeply buried it can never be accessed in any normal way, if ever.

There’s another way a person can become a psychopath. Some people cross a line at some point in life, a line where they seriously violate some inner (but maybe not fully developed) moral code. For example, in “People of the Lie,” Dr. Peck talks about a man who almost became evil. The man, who was by all accounts a good man, a devoted husband and father, suffered terrible panic attacks when crossing certain bridges as a requirement of his job. To help alleviate his anxiety attacks, the man made a deal with the Devil: he told the Devil if he could make it across the bridge without a panic attack, then he’d give the Devil permission to allow something terrible to happen to his son. The man said he didn’t really believe in the Devil, so he knew nothing would actually happen and therefore really wasn’t that bad a thing. But it’s still a deal with the devil, and Peck was horrified. The fact the man felt remorse and shame (and confessed his “sin” to Dr. Peck) saved him from crossing the line into becoming evil himself.

We have all heard stories of group violence, situations where people who otherwise would never partake in violent crime by themselves, enthusiastically take part in looting, mass violence and killing when part of a large group. In a way these people have also sold out to evil and have crossed a moral line. Soldiers in wars are obliged to kill innocent victims, sometimes women and children, and the deep guilt and shame they feel after doing something so alien to their own moral code could be a big reason why so many of them become mentally ill or suffer from the more severe forms of PTSD.

As an HSP (and also Aspie) child raised by a Narcissist mother, I was at a huge disadvantage. I suffered the whole gamut of psychic insults visited on the hypersensitive: bullied in school, bullied at home (and sometimes filled the role of the Golden Child too, since I was an “only”), and bullied by most of my serious boyfriends and finally my ex-husband.

Into the void.

blackhole

I could see “through” my mother at an early age, and knew her occasional professions of “love” were utter bullshit. When I was about 6, I remember a very vivid dream that she came into my room, and instead of a loving face, all I could see was solid black eyes–the kind of demon eyes seen in horror movies, coupled with a sneer so full of hate that I felt like I turned to ice inside. Even after I awoke, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my mother was evil, and I acted especially “spooky” that day, something my mother hated and punished me for, because she knew my “spooky” moods meant she knew that I knew what she really was, and it scared her to death.
I had the same experience with my husband years later–same sneer, same opaque black eyes.

It sounds crazy I know, but I have no doubt I actually saw this–and know that what I saw was what they really were. The blackness in their eyes was not a manifestation of a demon inside them–it was a mirror that reflected back the nothingness inside. An endless, black hole where nothing can enter, nothing can be reflected back, and nothing can escape, not even the light of truth. Around a narcissist, just as around a real black hole, all reality becomes distorted and eventually sucked into its depths to become something…else.

If psychopathic narcissists were ever confronted with what they really are–a fake “person” without a true self–I believe it would drive them insane or even to suicide. They would not be able to face the horror of knowing in a sense they really are dead. They are vampires who must stay alive by sucking the lifeblood from the living. HSPs, by feeling everything as deeply as they do, and having the ability to tap into the life force and zero in on the inexplicable like a psychic laser beam, are extremely “alive” and thereby more powerful than the narcissist. The malignant narcissist hates that. He wants those abilities and powers for himself–so badly he is willing to destroy those qualities in those who have them, even slowly killing people they observe possess these coveted qualities they both envy and know may expose and destroy them.

It’s also why narcissists in positions of power (and they are all too often in positions of great power) denigrate, hate, and fear scientific research, critical thinking, the arts, and spirituality (as opposed to dogmatic religion). These are things that, just like the HSP’s intuitive powers, can hone in on Truth and expose the lies narcissists like to tell to keep their subjects under their control.

Can Narcissists ever be cured?

Probably not, because they either no longer possess a true self (and in a real sense are really soulless) or it’s so deeply buried and obscured it can never be accessed and brought to light. If there is a self there, I suspect it’s greatly diminished or nearly destroyed. It may sound woowoo, but I believe in the chakra system–those 7 points of concentrated energy that run down the spine and that correspond closely with the physical endocrine system. Most if not all of us suffer from imbalanced chakras or chakras that are weak (or too strong), but I think in the psychopath, while their chakras exist (if they didn’t they would be dead), they are almost nonfunctional and disconnected from each other instead of working together the way they should. I also think if you could see the aura of a psychopath it would be thin and dark, probably almost black.

But even the most evil psychopath is not entirely hopeless. We are all children of God or a Higher Power (or however you choose to understand him), and as long as their is life, there is hope. I believe even the most psychopathic, narcissistic soul-murderer has rare moments of truth and clarity, where they become aware of what they really are, and feel great shame and horror when they do. Unfortunately these moments of clarity are so frightening and painful for them that they almost always escape back into their narcissistic ways and deny the truth. If they are to ever be helped, it must be during these rare moments of clarity, and only God can help them, and only if they are willing to submit to His power. We can pray for the psychopaths, but we can never change them. They must make the decision to change on their own, and unfortunately that isn’t something we can count on happening very often.

The psychopathic narcissist is really a pretty weak and pathetic character, and as easy as it is for us to hate them, we can also pity them for the lost souls they really are.

ETA: Please see my latest article, “My Son’s Father Turned from a Loving Dad into a Monster” for the story of how my highly sensitive son became his malignant narcissist’s father’s scapegoat once his father realized my son could “see through” his mask.