This looks like the perfect antidote for this beastly hot day.
Credit: Food Porn (Twitter account)
A question that probably has no answer.
Beast transforming; Belle watches in astonishment/credit Disney Pictures 1991
I’m following a blog where the writer, who is a diagnosed NPD in therapy (I am not going to link the blog here), has been showing signs recently of his hard shell beginning to crack and unfamiliar emotions starting to break through his formerly impenetrable emotional wall.
It’s been happening over time, and in fits and starts. His last post expresses quite a lot of vulnerability and sadness for his lost self and the hurt he felt as a child. It made me feel like weeping, but in the good kind of way. If this blogger is being candid and honest, then his unfolding is a beautiful, painful, magnificent thing to behold.
But earlier posts by this writer have described the way he feeds off the emotional reactions of other people (the way all narcissists do). Whether the reactions are positive or negative don’t really matter; it’s the fact they are emotional reactions to him that feed him. The blogger also happens to be an extremely skilled writer. I could easily believe he may be merely manipulating his readers (many who are empaths) into falling for the epic drama of the Big Bad Narc transforming into a man with the ability to love and feel like a normal person. It’s the stuff of Hollywood. It would make a great 10-Kleenex movie. He no doubt knows the effect such a thing would have; he could use his skill with the English language to write breathtaking, transformative passages and become the star of his own tear-jerker movie.
I must have watched the ending of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast at least 20 times, and it still has the ability to make me sob like a little child. It’s basically the story of a narcissist being healed by the love of another person, all dressed up in period costume and fairy dust and magic, and rendered suitable for children. I can’t get enough of that damn sappy ending. But I think that, for me, it’s symbolic of something much deeper going on.
Maybe I’m being (in Sam Vaknin’s words) a malignant optimist, or maybe I’m just a gullible fool, but I really, really want to believe the blogger isn’t manipulating his readers for narcissistic supply. I want to believe what he says he’s feeling is actually real. Nothing would move my soul more than witnessing a narcissist actually healing from his disorder. I’m a starry-eyed romantic INFJ and love this kind of stuff. I need to see that movie and believe it’s true. Maybe my obsession with narcissists being able to open their hearts again has to do with having narcissistic parents and having wanted so much to see it happen for them, but alas, my dreams were dashed.
Is there a way to know if this writer is telling the truth or just putting on an elaborate show for his readers in order to garner supply for himself? I suppose this is a rhetorical question since obviously no one can answer that. Only the narcissist himself can answer that, but there’s no way to know if his answer would be the truth or not.
****
Further Reading:
Your Daily Dose of Crazy, Compliments of the Narcissist!
The level of crazy you see in narcissists just makes my head spin. Following is a fine example of their special brand of insanity. The one quoted in this post seems to be a Covert Narcissist.
Please leave your comments under the original post.
Oh Boy. If you ever wanted an up close and personal view of what that special kind of crazy that only a Narcissist can deliver looks like… it is your lucky day.
I got these amazing text messages from the Narcissist tonight…. sounds like someone is upset. (and don’t worry, I didn’t reply to any of it)
THE NARCISSIST: I really think it’s in your best interest to stop writing untrue and negative things about me. I have read a few but I don’t have time to waste on your anger. You should really put that effort into journaling about your future and healing your anger. Not talking bad about someone you let go of and is no longer a part of your life.
THE NARCISSIST: I didn’t take all the screen shots of all the hateful things you said to me or those I care about (on various social…
View original post 558 more words
The Cure: Just Like Heaven.
I was going to wait until I do another Monday Melody (sorry, I’ve been slacking on that series the past few weeks), but I’ve been a bit obsessed with this ’80’s hit by the Cure today and had to go ahead and post it now. Enjoy!
Why my therapist rocks.
How awesome is my therapist? Let me count the ways.
Actually, I won’t do that. I’ve already described in many other posts why he totally rocks. I don’t think I’m idealizing how great he is. Well, maybe just a little, but I think it’s pretty normal.
I’m just going to describe one of the many reasons why he’s so awesome, because this is something that happened last night.
He’s not afraid to show his vulnerability. He’s not afraid to show me he has emotions. This helps me, because it makes it safer for me to express my own buried emotions. I never had a therapist who did that before, and I think that’s why my other therapists could never get through to me and I’d eventually quit.
So what happened was this. He came out of his office as usual to greet me, but he did something a little different than usual. Normally, he just smiles at me and tells me he’s glad to see me (and I know he really is), then leads me into the room, and pulls up his chair so he’s facing me about three feet away. He has never laid a hand on me, but puts the least amount of distance between us I will allow.
Last night, he smiled but his smile looked sad. He looked tired and a little pale. He sighed and sat down in the chair on the other side of the end table in his waiting room. He said, “You don’t mind if I decompress for a minute, do you?”
“No, of course not,” I said, surprised. I didn’t really know what else to say. I stared at him, waiting, and somewhat intrigued. He was resting his head in his hands, elbows on knees. I wanted to give him a hug, but I didn’t.
He looked at me sheepishly. “Difficult session,” he said. Then he got up from the chair and said “Alright, I’m okay now.” I followed him inside.
That might sound weird or even unethical. After all, some people think a therapist should not share their emotions with a client, especially if those emotions involved another client. But I never see the client that comes in ahead of me. They go out a different door than I come in. I don’t even know the client’s gender.
My therapist has shown vulnerability at other times too. Once or twice, he got teary-eyed. Not crying or actual tears rolling down his face (that would be awkward and I might be tempted to run), but I could tell what I was saying made him a little emotional. He also tells me he looks forward to our visits. I don’t think there are any romantic or sexual feelings, though I could be wrong. I just think he’s more open than most therapists about the way he feels, and I think that’s what makes him so good at what he does.
My therapists’s willingness to show vulnerability has a few benefits for me:
— It makes me trust him and hence, be more willing to show my own vulnerability. I simply can’t let my emotions loose if I’m dealing with a block of wood who does nothing but stare wordlessly at me and writes things on pad of paper.
— He shows empathy for me, which helps me feel empathy for my true self (inner child), and this self-empathy then expands toward others, so I become a more empathic person.
— I feel like sometimes he models emotion for me. For example, if I’m angry but am dissociated from that anger and can’t really feel it, he picks up on it and models anger. Not at me, but toward whatever it is he thinks is making me angry. Like, one time I was talking about the time my dad stole the little picture booklets I had drawn when I was about 7 or 8; these little journals were meant for no eyes but my own. I felt violated by that, but wasn’t able to feel the anger. I kept making excuses for my dad and saying it shouldn’t have bothered me. My therapist actually looked angry and said, “I don’t care if you’re mad at him or not, I’m mad at him for violating your boundaries like that.” After that I was able to experience the anger I felt and work through that.
Whether what he’s doing is intentional or not doesn’t matter. What he’s doing is working with me. He’s an empath who holds the key to the buried parts of my mind that no one could even come close to unlocking.
Hot, tired, and in need of a good “beach” read.
It’s hot and humid, and I’m both physically tired and emotionally exhausted from everything that’s happened these past couple of weeks. I’ll put up a post soon about my therapy session tonight (it might be on my other blog though), but tonight I’m just going to curl up with a $4 paperback novel I picked up at Dollar General until I fall asleep.
I might comment on a few blogs before I do that though.
Birthday surprise.
Yes, today is my birthday, and my DD baked this cake for me! It’s a white cake with vanilla buttercream (no cream cheese for me, please!) and coconut. I just ate a piece and it’s yummy. Would anyone else like some? It’s a piece of cake!
I suffered narcissistic injury today and I’m not even a narcissist.
I’ve always taken pride in my youthful appearance. In spite of my age (I’m in my mid-50’s) most people think I’m in my 40’s or sometimes even in my late 30’s. I’ve never had a facelift or any cosmetic surgery. I don’t have a lot of gray hair. I’m in pretty good shape for my age too. Sometimes I even still get carded (although I do realize they’re carding everyone now). I still sometimes get looks from the opposite sex. The other day I was flattered when a construction worker was staring at me and said, “Hey, pretty lady!” When I was in my 20’s that kind of attention made me ragey. Now I love it because it doesn’t happen that often.
Today I worked with a new employee. We were driving in silence because I really didn’t feel like talking that much. I have a lot on my mind. I suppose she was uncomfortable with the silence and trying to make conversation, so here was her icebreaker:
“Why aren’t you retired yet?”
HUH?
I was at a complete loss for words. I was never so insulted. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. I worried. Have I suddenly become old looking in the last year or two? I don’t look like a spring chicken, but I certainly don’t think I look like I’m ready to retire either. What happened to the old etiquette, when if you were “of a certain age,” people politely didn’t ask you about it?
“I’m ten years away from retirement,” I spat. Yeah, I was mad. How dare she ask me something like that.
She stared at me. She wasn’t done with me. “You look like you used to party a lot,” she continued. “I bet you did, drinking and smoking weed with all those hippies at Woodstock back in the day.”
“I WASN’T A HIPPIE! I WAS 9 YEARS OLD WHEN WOODSTOCK HAPPENED!”
“Well, you look like you partied a lot. You look like you still party a lot.”
What the hell was THAT supposed to mean?
I was glad when the day was over and I was rid of this rude person. I’ve been stewing over what she said all day. When I got home, I asked my daughter to tell me HONESTLY how old she thought I looked. She said 42. When I told her what happened, she just laughed.
I guess I’m narcissistic about SOME things. I think everyone is. I decided to write about it because after all, it is pretty funny.
When your load is too heavy…
Thanks to Insanitybytes for this idea.
Words as weapons.
by Photos8.com
If you were raised by narcissistic parents, you are probably familiar with these. These are the words I heard from my parents (yours may differ somewhat but the devastating effect is the same). I’ve broken them down into childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, since the emotional abuse doesn’t stop when you become an adult. Sometimes it gets worse. No matter what stage of life you’re in, these words are intended to destroy your soul. They are extremely effective weapons.
Childhood:
You are too sensitive (the #1 criticism)
You have no sense of humor.
You cry too much.
Shut up or I’ll give you something to cry about.
Your hair looks like a rat’s nest.
You always look so dirty and sloppy. (after being outside playing)
What did you do to your hair? (I did nothing; my hair was naturally thin and fine and tangled easily–and also grew in a strange way with cowlicks and weird curls)
You read too much. (what?)
You’re too obsessed with your books, drawing, and solitary games. (These were my escapes)
You act so immature; no wonder you have no friends.
You know you hate competition (when I wanted to join the swim team)
You know you’re not good at team sports. (I wasn’t, but this made me doubt myself even more when playing team sports)
I don’t think you really want that. (subtle gaslighting intended to make me doubt my own reality)
Here, let me do that for you. (a favorite of my mother’s when she didn’t have the patience to teach me or supervise me in a new or unfamiliar activity)
You’ll only make a mess of things. (another way to discourage my competence).
They’re just jealous of you because you’re prettier/smarter than they are (this seems nice but wasn’t based on reality and even I could see through that BS; I was bullied because of my high sensitivity, not my “superior” looks and intelligence)
You come from a better family than they do. (better in what way?)
We don’t associate with people like that. (see above–my parents were VERY into social status)
Don’t tell anyone what goes on in this family.
Keep your mouth shut about what happened here tonight.
Adolescence
You’re gaining too much weight. (my mother’s #1 favorite criticism, usually done in front of others)
You’re too fat (when I weighed 120 lbs at 5’4″!)
Your hair looks too stringy/greasy/what have you done to it, etc. (a variation on the childhood hair criticism)
You eat too much chocolate, you will get pimples and no one will think you’re pretty anymore.
You’re boy-crazy!
You don’t study hard enough; you will fail all your subjects and not graduate (always catastrophizing)
You’re too pretty to wear that/do that/say that, etc.
You know you don’t want that. (making me doubt my reality)
You know I don’t like it when you act “tough” (but my sensitivity was hated too–I could never win).
You always get too hurt by everything (no empathy after a breakup or lost friendship, etc.)
You always get too obsessed with a boy.
This dress will make you look slimmer (this was a dress given to me in front of my friends at a birthday party)
Your butt is too big (I do have a big butt–I couldn’t help it! It’s the way my spine curves. What was I supposed to do? Slice it off?)
Your breasts are so big they will hang down to your waist when you’re 50. (I’m over 50 now and they don’t, they weren’t THAT big, and I think there might have been some envy in this anyway because she wore an A cup and I wore a C)
You’re acting like a crazy person.
What a stupid thing to say.
You have a terrible personality. I wouldn’t like you either.
You should change your personality.
You need to learn to control yourself.
You’re not goal-oriented.
Adulthood:
You’re living a loser’s life.
You have nothing to show for your life.
You make terrible choices.
You’ve always made terrible choices.
You probably did something to deserve it. (always said when someone else treated me unfairly; no empathy shown)
Well, the way you are, I’m not surprised they are so angry with you/don’t like you, etc.
You’re a disgrace.
You never learn from your mistakes.
You overreact to everything.
You have no sense of humor/too sensitive, etc.
You don’t know how office politics works. (I don’t, and I hate it, but this was meant to insult me)
You never did have a knack for making it in the business world.
You’ll always be poor because you make such terrible choices.
Don’t expect any help from us.
You made your bed, now lie in it.
Why don’t you join a convent? The nuns will take care of you. (said when I was threatened with homelessness during my divorce).
Go live in a homeless shelter (see above).
You don’t take good care of your kids.
You’re a terrible parent.
Those kids are going to grow up with so many problems.
You weren’t raised to be this way.
It’s not my responsibility that what I said upset you.
You chose to be upset by that. (again, taking no responsibility and blame-shifting).
You choose your own emotions. (see above).
You made a choice to be depressed/miserable, etc.
****
I could go on, but I think this is enough for now. Do any of these sound familiar to you?
Further Reading:
Lies My Narcissists Told Me
Lucky Otters Haven 