My Christmas present to myself

Posted on December 20, 2014 by luckyotter

As ACONS or victims of narcissistic abuse at the hands of others, we can be nervous, hypervigilant, and constantly feel stressed out and overwhelmed. It’s so hard for us to relax and just feel happy and in the moment.

Sometimes it’s the simple things that work best and take us to a place where we feel more at peace and more sane. We need to seek out and savor these small things.

The other day I received a gift card for Cracker Barrel. I have to admit, I love their country stores that are always a treat after pigging out on their heavy country cooking.

This morning I had to go have two of my tires changed and get an oil change. I hate dealing with servicing my car, but it had to be done. I already felt better knowing at least my tires won’t skid off the road, even though my car is 13 years old and the transmission is starting to slip.

Blasting rock music and singing along to it on the way home, I remembered my Cracker Barrel gift card and decided to stop by and buy a few things with it.

I adore candles and always buy those big scented jar candles at the dollar store, K-Mart or Walmart because usually those are all I can afford. Those are fine, but today I decided I could afford to splurge and buy a $20 Yankee Candle. I had a tough time choosing an aroma, because they all smell so great, but I finally settled on a new scent called “Silver Birch,” which smells just like woodsmoke and reminded me of a crackling fire.

I also love bath products, so I bought myself a bottle of JR. Watkins apothecary bath salts in Menthol/Camphor with Eucalyptus oil. The bottle, charmingly printed in a late 19th/early 20th century style, says it’s great for soothing colds and flu, but I’ve tried it before and it’s great for everything. It makes your body feel energized but relaxes your mind at the same time.

So when I got home, I decided to take a long hot bath, and just let the scents and warmth of the water swirl around me and bring me into the moment, only the moment. I lit the candle and placed it on the sink, poured a handful of the scented bath salts into the water and mixed in a little vanilla/lavender scented bath gel (cheap from Dollar General) in there too to make the water softer for a little moisture. Then I slid into the tub and literally sighed as I settled in. I lay there with my eyes closed for about an hour, just letting my mind wander and focus on the moment. I also said a little prayer of thanks for small blessings like this.

I nearly drifted off to sleep, but finally, when the water began to get too cool, I dried myself off, put on some comfortable clothes and decided to write a blog post about the bath from heaven.

We need moments like this to validate ourselves. We need to give ourselves little gifts every day if we can. If we didn’t get the mothering and nurture we needed, or we’re still surrounded by narcissists who don’t give a shit about how we feel, we can still give ourselves comfort and nurture every day in small ways like this

It’s not even necessary to spend the kind of money I did today (and the only reason I had it was because of the gift card I received). You can get the same effect with cheaper products from lower end stores. I always find great stuff at the Dollar General a few blocks away Their candles are limited in variety but smell really good. You can also mix a little baby oil with a cheap scented bath gel. At some smoke shops and other stores, you can buy little bottles of scented oil, or even learn to make your own (I’m sure there’s plenty of how-to instructions online).

There’s nothing like a long, hot, leisurely, great smelling bath to soothe your nerves and make you feel normal again, at least for a little while. And make sure you light a candle while you soak.

I’m still feeling so relaxed I think I’m going to nap for about an hour.

Writing is cheaper than therapy or drugs.

Posted on December 20, 2014 by luckyotter

So much truth in this article. I started my blog as self therapy because I could not afford a therapist and by treating it as a sort of online journal, I think I’ve learned more about myself and my abusers in the past 3 months than I did in any time I ever spent in therapy. I’ve also rediscovered my love of writing and realized I haven’t lost my ability or ambition to turn this into something more. Finally I feel like I have goals in life again, I’m no longer one of the walking dead, and this article nails that feeling, so I’m reblogging it.

Sloppy Etymology

Sometimes you wish for something so hard and then it actually comes true. Has that happened to you? Against countless odds and still, your wish actually came true. Does it count as being lucky or should you be careful about hitching your hopes up too high? I’ve been thinking these thoughts for a while now. I’ve been thinking so much about it and I’ve also been trying not to think at all.

So much has happened since the last time I was here, blogger friends. So. Much. Where do I start from and how do I explain any of this? I am not sure. But I want to take it one step at a time. Keep my emotions in check. Make sure I’m not borrowing more happiness than I deserve to have in my share.

I can’t write like I used to. I’m putting that out there so you can…

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The drudgery of blogging

Posted on December 17, 2014 by luckyotter

As writers, we get excited about getting a new idea out there on our blogs. I know I do!

After I’ve spent an hour or two laboring lovingly over a new article, then editing it about 30 times to make it as readable as possible, then finding and adding the perfect photos and illustrations, and finally adding tags and categories (which, to me, is the most boring part of writing a blog post), I get a huge rush when I finally get to hit “Publish” and see my hard work in its final form, the way the world will see it.

I take pride in my posts (well, most of them), especially when they seem to get popular. A few have. It’s fun getting comments, lots of likes, and watching your stats go up. It’s cool as hell to see how many countries my lowly little blog post has touched.

But blogging has its dull side too, the side that seems more like work than play. If, like me, you have decided you want your blog to grow and get lots more views, and be replicated and reposted many times on other social media for maximum exposure, then that requires linking every post you want to be seen to various social media.

I don’t really like social media, even though I have accounts on Twitter, StumbleUpon, Facebook, and now LinkedIn. But like it or not, it’s necessary to use it if you want your blog to be seen.

I refuse to post anything to Facebook (except for my silliest fluff posts) because my FOO and other people from my past I prefer to avoid have all found me there–and I do NOT want them to read my blog. I should probably just delete that account and start another one under a fake name, but I don’t like Facebook anyway because it’s become like fucking Big Brother so I probably won’t bother doing that.

Instead, I rely on you guys to share my posts (if you want to) using the Facebook button that’s under each post. That makes things easy for me! The buttons are there for you to use!

All my blog posts are automatically linked on Twitter, which doesn’t scare me like Facebook does because the only relative I know of who posts there is my son and I can trust him with my life. He never reads my blog anyway, but a friend of his does.

StumbleUpon is something I stumbled upon while here at WordPress, and it’s a cool way to share posts and it does seem to bring me more viewers. I don’t use that service for anything but sharing my posts. When I look at my stats, SU has brought me more viewers so I have no complaints.

I just joined LinkedIn today and spent the last two hours sharing every blog post I’ve written (with the exception of a few that I don’t think were that good or were just announcements or something) on that site. That’s the part of blogging that’s drudgery. I would much rather be writing a new post than sitting here pressing buttons for two hours, but that’s part of what it takes to get visibility.

I hate it when I see my stats going down. Today they weren’t very good at all, and I thought to myself I should be doing this when my stats are up and write a new post right now with a super-grabby title to get everyone’s attention.

There was one advantage to this boring task: I got to see old articles that I’d forgotten I’d written. I’m up to well over 200 blog posts now so it’s impossible to remember all of them. I think my writing has improved since the beginning.

It’s not like I had any great blog ideas tonight anyway.

Did you ever almost not post something…

Posted on December 14, 2014 by luckyotter

…but went ahead and did it anyway?

I just did earlier today, with my poetry. I haven’t written poetry in years and I feel like it really isn’t good–too melodramatic and full of purple prose. Like a tacky velvet painting, done up with garish colors and second-rate drawing. Something you wouldn’t even bother selling because you know no one would buy it; so to get rid of it, you just wind up giving it to Goodwill or something.

I think my prose is much stronger. But people seemed to like the poem I wrote. It was also very cathartic for me to write that, and deeply personal. It’s easy to have second thoughts about making something that personal public. Especially for those of us who have lived with and been raised by narcs, everything is so damned dangerous.

To think that the world is full of malignant narcissists and psychopaths who could be stomping all over my fragile and bleeding heart which I just lay out there in the big wide open world of the Internet is a scary, scary thing, but as bloggers about narcissism, we can’t let that stop us. We must be brave.

Yeah, those narcs could be sitting there right now laughing at everything we write, even quoting us elsewhere and making fun of us among their sycophants. If we write about being victimized (which most of us do because that’s how we learned what we know), narcs are at least going to be reading our stuff. They will not be empathetic. If you think about that too much, you’ll lose your courage and won’t write anything.

So to hell with those narcs. They are going to read what we write. They love to read about themselves, even if it’s negative. To a narc, negative attention is better than no attention. It’s still narcissistic supply.

So what are they gonna do? Troll our sites? We can always not approve comments. So far I have only received one abusive comment and into “Trash” it went. Some narcissism writers have made their blogs private or required people to sign in before they can see any posts. I won’t do that with my blog. It’s an open book, available to everyone and anyone, even narcs.

This is a blog primarily meant to be a form of self-therapy (though it’s become a lot more) so why should I edit my thoughts and feelings? Why should I make my blog a “private club”? No, I won’t ever do that. I hate exclusivity and having to sign into a website. If I have to sign in, I probably won’t bother joining. So I’m not going to do that to you, either.

So anyway, after I posted my poetry I waited for the vomit sounds and crickets. I’m glad that hasn’t happened. My stupid hypervigilance again. I always short sell myself.

I kind of felt the same way posting “My Mother, the Exhibitionist” because the behavior I described in that post is deeply embarrassing to me (and almost borders on pornography). But it is a perfect example of the way some narcissists behave in front of their kids and others, and it affected me, so why would I NOT write about it?

The minute I start editing my thoughts on this blog is the minute I’ve sold out and the blog becomes something other than what it was meant to be–a public online diary. I will never sell out.

But I won’t ever talk about my crush on this blog. Ever. I know that’s probably got some wheels turning. Nyah nyah, too bad. Deal with it. 😉

I thought yesterday was Friday

Posted on December 6, 2014 by luckyotter

W-T-F: They’re really all the same anyway.

The blogger Idiot Writing (whose idiotic, WTF posts I’m in love with) just wrote a post informing everyone that today was Friday just in case anyone thought it was Thursday.

Well, how ironic is that, because yesterday (Thursday) I thought it was Friday. I actually asked my boss why my direct deposit didn’t go in, and she looked at me like I had 3 heads and a pine tree growing out of my forehead.

I skulked out of her office liked a whipped rabbit and just wanted to somehow weave myself into the beige carpet.

A narcissist’s entitlement.

Posted on December 4, 2014 by luckyotter

It’s already happening.

I talked to my daughter’s friend Paul last night, and he sounded a little grumpy. Hypervigilant as always, in my black, paranoid mind I imagined my MN ex Michael, who just moved in Paul’s house a few days ago, had already convinced Paul I was an evil, treacherous, narcissistic, selfish female troglodyte not worth the time of day (because he projects all his character defects onto me), and that was the reason for the grumpiness. Of course! What else could it be!? Of course it was narcissistic of me to assume Paul’s grumpiness had anything to do with me anyway, but that’s how hypervigilant and paranoid an Aspie victim of narcissistic abuse can get.

Moving on, it wasn’t that at all. Of course it wasn’t. How silly of me to think it was. If I had a quarter for every time my stupid hypervigilance makes an idiot of me, I would be a wealthy woman instead of a poor one.

No, Paul was grumpy because of Michael. He asked me if Michael always acted so entitled, which caused me to burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. I had already warned Paul the way Michael wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and that he never lifted a finger around the house, expecting to be waited on like some sort of golden God. After the peals of laughter subsided, I asked him what happened.

Paul said Michael had offered to order Chinese food for dinner (with Paul paying, of course, because Michael was broke as always), so Paul gave him the money to give to the driver and didn’t cook anything. Then Paul went out for awhile, expecting Chinese food when he returned.

Instead, when Paul returned at 9:30, he found Michael fast asleep on the couch. There was no Chinese food anywhere in sight. Paul woke Michael up and asked where the food was. Instead of apologizing and acting embarrassed, Michael said, “I thought you were picking up the food.”
“I gave you the money. Why would I pick up the food if I gave you the money?” was Paul’s reply.
The money was balled up in a wad on the table, next to a ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, debris from Michael’s jeans pocket, and a pot pipe. Besides being lazy and entitled, Michael is also a slob.
Paul was angry.
“I thought you said you had to eat right away because of your diabetes. But here you are sleeping instead.”
“It’s not my fault. I should have eaten hours ago. When I don’t eat, I can’t stay awake.”
“But I gave you the money to order Chinese food.” He pointed to the money on the table.
“Well, SORREE, you don’t have to give me attitude about it. Go ahead and order it then.”
“That’s not the point. You said YOU were going to order it. I would have picked it up myself if I knew this would happen. Now they’re closed and it’s too late to go back out.”
Michael sat up and lit the pot pipe. “Here, have some pot. You need to chillax.”
“I DON’T WANT ANY DAMN POT. I’m hungry. I want something to eat.”
“Well, then why don’t you cook something?”
Paul looked at Michael like he had three heads. “No. I’m tired. You promised to order in but you didn’t. Why don’t YOU cook something?”
“I can’t,” whined Michael. “I have a headache because I haven’t had anything to eat.”
Paul stormed out of the room and went into the kitchen to start dinner, while Michael settled back down on the couch and switched on the TV.

The first thing Paul saw was a sinkful of dirty dishes, soaking in soapy water. When Michael ~~leeched off~~ lived with me for 7 years after our divorce, he probably actually washed the dishes three times in that amount of time. His idea of “washing dishes” meant piling them in the sink with water and Dawn, leaving me with the fun job of actually washing them. If I refused to wash them, they would sit there for up to three days, until the funky smell of the cold, dirty dishwasher forced me to start from scratch, emptying the sink and starting over.

Paul stormed back into the living room. “You said you would wash the dishes, but they’re still sitting in the sink.”
“But I have to soak them first. I filled the sink with soap to loosen the dirt.”
“But that’s not WASHING them.”
“Whatever.”
Paul wound up washing the dishes and cooking dinner. And that’s why he was grumpy.
I don’t expect Michael to last long there. He will probably be living at the Salvation Army again even before Molly returns home. I can tell Paul won’t put up with his shit for long.

The story is funny, but it’s also illustrative of the mindfuckery a narcissist uses to get their own way. As always, Michael refused to take responsibility or do anything he didn’t want to do. When questioned or called out on his refusal to pull his weight, he either shrugs it off as if others are making a big deal over nothing, or shifts the blame to the other person. Because that’s what narcs do best, even though in their deluded minds they think they are demigods entitled to have their servants wipe their butts every time they take a dump.

Why do I feel so guilty?

Posted on November 29, 2014 by luckyotter

For my daughter’s 21st birthday she was informed a trust fund was being set up in her name by her grandfather (my father) but she would not be able to access it until she showed more maturity and interest in attending college. My daughter, feeling it was unfair that her brother got to access his right away (because he has made better choices and had “proven” himself) found a way to access the money anyway. Apparently there was some loophole she found out about (I have no idea how) where she could override the stipulations put on the fund. It wasn’t illegal what she did, but was probably unethical.

While I understood her feeling like she was being treated unfairly, at the same time I understood my father’s concerns and agreed with him she wasn’t mature enough to handle such a large sum of cash and it would have been better to wait until she was older.

We were right. She wasn’t ready to handle it. Within less than two months, almost all the money was gone and she can’t even really say what happened to it. My father’s wife (my “evil stepmother”) is impossible to deal with–cold, condescending and intimidating (although she does take good care of my dad). She is a narcissist who scares both me and my children to the point we are all hesitant to call my father. She acts as a kind of gatekeeper and talking to him means going through her first, so none of us ever call him, although we’d like to. She also intercepts any mail or email that is sent to him. Nothing gets to him unless it goes through her first.

Anyway, after Molly accessed the funds, my stepmother was so livid that she wrote me a letter letting me know she would never speak to my daughter again. I think her rage was not only due to my daughter’s dishonesty (anger which I can understand), but also because, as a narcissist, she hated knowing she’d been “outsmarted” by an upstart kid. My stepmother has always taken great pride in thinking she knows more than everyone else.

It’s incredibly sad that this malignant, heartless woman has managed to separate me and my children from my father (and their grandfather) through her intimidating, condescending words of judgment and disapproval. But that’s what narcissists do–they divide and conquer. Unfortunately this sort of thing is nothing new in my family: my entire family is splintered and fractured like a broken platter, with factions of relatives not speaking to or intensely disliking other relatives due to the rampant narcissism that runs like a cancer throughout the bloodline.

A few of us, such as my son, yearn for unity and healing in the family. My son, very touchingly, recently expressed to me his wish to initiate a huge family reunion one day when he can afford to do that. I didn’t want to tell him this would probably never work, since even if everyone attended (which everyone would not), the drama would be as thick as tar. He is so naive sometimes! But he has also made contact with some distant cousins that even I barely know through social media and is now good Facebook friends with one of them. I commend and admire him for this.

This morning I received an email from my father, which I’ll paraphrase. First of all he thanked me for my Thanksgiving wishes (I didn’t dare call him because I’d have to deal with his wife, so I just sent him an email). Next, he told me I would be receiving a check in the mail soon (I have no idea for how much). That made me wonder if he is about to pass on (no one in the family informs me of such things). After all, he is in his 80s and suffers from worsening Parkinson’s disease and is almost completely physically disabled. He also has had heart issues. His wife is his full time caretaker and narcissist or not, he would be in a nursing home without her. Although his mind appears to be intact, he sometimes has trouble translating his thoughts into coherent words, and he physically he is completely dependent on her.

Frankly, I was gobsmacked I would be getting anything at all. Although I believe he does love me in his own way, I was under the impression I was being totally cut out of any will (due mostly to his wife’s influence and her ability to turn others against me, the same way my real mother does).

But the next part of his email made me feel like I’d been punched in the stomach. In it, he said my daughter (his granddaughter) is a slimey, sneaky liar and will never change. He said his wife wants nothing to do with her (which I already knew but makes me wonder if he feels the same). While I already knew how my stepmother felt about my daughter, seeing the child I love described this way hurt me A LOT. I can understand their anger toward her, (and I myself have often wondered if she is a narcissist herself but I don’t think so) but seeing these words in print was not only horrible but also, inexplicably, made me feel overcome with guilt and shame. Sure, I wasn’t a perfect parent (and sometimes a pretty lousy one), but I tried my best. Her father is an MN and I believe he really did a number on her mentally. But I still feel guilty as if her behavior is MY FAULT. I feel a shame so deep I didn’t even answer his email — I simply didn’t know what to say.

Since my divorce, I’ve been in terrible financial straits. I work extremely hard and hate living like this, but due to my Aspergers, PTSD, and pervasive self esteem issues that keep me from being able to “pull myself up by my bootstraps,” I constantly struggle to just keep the bills paid, never mind having any disposable income to do the sorts of things that normal, middle class people do. So the news I will be receiving money that might relieve some of these problems should make me happy. *

But it doesn’t. It’s not because I don’t think I “deserve” an inheritance or gift, but because of how ashamed these two make me feel as a human being: ashamed for having a daughter who has “wronged” them and keeps getting in trouble and never seems to learn from her mistakes (although I think that is changing), as well as for other mistakes I have made that were unacceptable to them (such as allowing my MN ex-husband to move back in with me for 7 years, until I finally gained the courage to kick the malignant jackass to the curb last year). They are extremely judgmental people and judge me and my daughter harshly for our poor choices, but I have not gotten much credit for anything I’ve ever done right.

It’s very complicated and I can’t even talk about my feelings in a coherent way. I feel like I’m in some kind of emotional labyrinth I can never escape. It’s all so confusing. I feel so guilty right now and I don’t even know why. I long to call or write my father and ask him about his health (because I do love him and care very much) but am terrified of my stepmother’s interception and harsh judgment and how profoundly he’s been influenced by her. He may pass away soon, but I’m afraid I might not even be informed when that happens. Somehow, I feel like I’ve been bought off…maybe I am wrong. I can only hope.

But on the bright side, at least I can reassure myself that feeling this much guilt and shame means I have a conscience and am not a narc. Because sometimes I think I inherited the family disorder too.

I really need to stop caring so much what my FOO thinks of me. It really doesn’t matter, does it? I just need to approve of myself.

* This really didn’t belong in this article because of its focus, but I want to use the money (or some of it) to take classes in web design, CSS, SEO and how to blog professionally. I would love to be able to quit my day job to be able to write full time.

Followup: The email I wrote back to my father.

A pretty good day

Posted on November 26, 2014 by luckyotter

Alright, so my day didn’t start out very good.

Yesterday I got my settlement check from the insurance company from the car accident Molly was in last month, and this morning had to go to the bank to open a savings account and deposit the rest in checking, so I was an hour late for work because the bank didn’t open until 9 AM and I didn’t want to be toting a huge check around all day.

At 8:30 I received a call from my boss. She screamed “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Rubbing my assaulted ear, I explained I’d left a message on voicemail at 6:30.
“BUT IT WASN’T ON VOICEMAIL! DON’T YOU REALIZE THIS IS OUR BUSIEST SEASON?” The implication that I was lying about leaving a message could not have been more obvious.
“I’m sorry, I did leave a message. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I won’t be more than an hour late.”
“WELL YOU BETTER MAKE IT QUICK!”
Click.

I opened up my laptop and Tweeted: “Today is going to be the day from hell.”
I quickly scanned my blog stats, and found them disappointing.
Mentally I felt my defensive armor going up and my cortisone levels rising. I braced myself for the attack I knew I’d be facing once I got to work.

Although I have nearly perfect attendance and am never late, sure enough, when I arrived at the office, my malignant narcissist boss screamed, “IT’S THE BUSIEST WEEK OF THE YEAR! DON’T YOU REALIZE THAT? YOU ARE RUINING THIS COMPANY!”
Facepalm.

I knew she wasn’t serious, because I do a good job, my attendance is good, and she’s like that with everyone (well, except for her flying monkeys and sycophants), but it still made me feel violated and angry. Narcissists have a way of doing that.

The other bad thing that happened this morning was my daughter Molly went to court and was sentenced to 30 days in jail. She will be out Christmas day (thank goodness for that!). The good thing is that when she gets out, she will owe no more fines (which are far more than she or I can afford) and will have no more probation. She’ll do her time and just has to stay out of trouble after that.

But the day got a lot better. While it wasn’t the day from heaven, it didn’t turn out to be the day from hell either. I made friends with Molly’s older boyfriend, Paul. We were texting each other back and forth about Molly’s day in court and what happened. When I got home from my long day at work, I called him, and we spent about two hours talking. He is very easy to talk to, even for an Aspie like myself–I always feel violated and threatened by the most simple telephone conversations. I always hated the sound of a ringing phone. But talking to Paul was different, and put me at ease.

Paul is not only comfortable to talk to, he genuinely and sincerely cares about Molly. He’s the first boyfriend she’s ever had who has really cared about her wellbeing and wants her to turn her life around instead of all the losers who did nothing but drag her down and use her. We talked mostly about Molly, and what we can do together to help her. He’s older than she is and she listens to him, where she hasn’t always listened to me (I’m her mom–that’s probably why!) He put money into her jail account so she can buy concessions and make phone calls.

The other day I wrote a long depressing post saying I thought Molly was a narcissist (and she may be), but once again I have doubts. Drug addiction and bipolar disorder can also cause a person to act in a narcissistic way. She also has a diagnosis of BPD and PTSD. People with BPD can act very much like narcissists, as can bipolar people in their “manic” phase.

The reason I’m once again doubting she’s a true narcissist is because when she was handcuffed today, Paul was there with her, and she looked at him and said, crying, “I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused everyone. I really want to change. I’m a terrible person.”

I don’t think she would have been faking those tears and those words; for what reason would she do so? Paul told me they have had some deep conversations about her behavior and run-ins with the law over the past decade and how much she doesn’t want to be part of that anymore. I think she was running around with some people who were very bad for her, because she thought she didn’t deserve or couldn’t do any better.

Molly is intellectually brilliant and could do anything she wants in life. Once upon a time she was a straight-A student. But her self esteem is so low that she’s mostly associated with people far beneath her, people who do stupid things because they just aren’t very bright. Paul wants her to spend more time with her psychologically healthier friends who aren’t doing drugs, and meet some of his friends who are succeeding too.

Molly has never liked to read much (although she reads and writes very well), but in jail she will have a lot of time for reading (it beats playing cards and watching endless reruns of “Cops”). He told me about a book she had been talking about by the actress Kristen Johnson, called “Guts,” in which she describes her struggles with alcohol and drugs before she turned her life around. This book could be inspirational for her. Molly has always liked biographies and stories about people with substance abuse issues. I remember her favorite book in high school was one that had also been a favorite of mine when I was her age: “Go Ask Alice.”

I don’t have any family to speak of (or rather, none that I speak to), and certainly none in my area, but Paul invited me to his home for Thanksgiving. I invited my roommate to come along, but she declined, so it will just be the two of us. He’s new in this area and has no family here either. He’s cooking dinner and I’m bringing dessert and a bottle of red Merlot wine (my favorite).

Having been burned so many times by narcissists and psychopaths, I don’t trust people easily, so of course there’s a small nagging voice in my head warning me Paul may be a narcissist in the love-bombing phase, but I really, truly don’t think so.

Just the other day, Molly was talking about having kids someday. She’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in having children (she is a bit young still and certainly not emotionally ready), but she told me she would be interested if she was married, and she thinks Paul may be The One. I told her not to rush things and I would like her to attend school first. Paul and I think she just may do this once she is released. He wants to take her to the community college just to have a look around and maybe sign up for one class just to get her feet wet.

After putting most of the settlement in savings, I still have a little over $1,000 left, a nice sum of cash for someone as poor as I am. Some will be used for Christmas, but I decided to order a few books tonight. One was Kristen Johnson’s book “Guts” which I’ll bring to Molly; I also ordered a Wild Republic stuffed raccoon (a Christmas gift for my son (who already has “Alfonso” the river otter, who I wrote about)), and two more books about narcissism: Martha Stout’s “The Sociopath Next Door,” which I have heard great things about; and Sam Vaknin’s gigantic tome, “Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited.”
I love to get things in the mail, especially books.

Any day, no matter how shitty it starts, where I can make a new friend, feel hopeful about my kid, have a little money to spend, realize I won’t be alone on a big holiday after all, and get some new books to read, is a good day. And if I can end that day with a new blog post telling you what a good day it was, then it’s officially a great day.

Black Friday Cometh

Posted on November 24, 2014 by luckyotter

I was going to write something about Black Friday, the scourge which threatens to take over Thanksgiving with its spirit of greed instead of thanks, but this rant is so well written, I’m just going to reblog it here. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Flakes of Cynicism

Or: Ready, Set, CONSUME.

Thanksgiving is upon us, which can only mean one thing – Black Friday is back, ready to blow your sanity to bits with door-buster deals. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bargain as much as anyone else, and have found myself wading through rabid crowds in the cold dawn more than I would care to admit. I don’t really take issue with Black Friday. The way in which it has usurped Thanksgiving and what that says about our culture is what I find problematic.

Look, a dead horse!

I’ve never been one for crowds, so perhaps that is the root of my general disdain for this holiday of consumerism. Thanksgiving has been my favorite holiday since I was a child. I have all kinds of warm and fuzzy memories of giant family Thanksgiving meals long past. As an adult, more often than not, my wife and I host our families for…

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Sam Vaknin read my post (and has a few corrections)!

Posted on November 20, 2014 by luckyotter

I feel silly and a little childish being so impressed by this, but Mr. Vaknin himself commented on yesterday’s article and also said there were a few corrections to be made. I made the changes to that post, but I also thought this warranted a brand new post. There is some information I neglected to include in the article, which includes a video (one of many on his Youtube channel), a rebuttal on his website, and a IMDB review of “I, Psychopath” that paints Vaknin as a psychopathic monster but at least an HONEST monster–while painting Ian Walker, the director, as a dishonest, unethical monster who misrepresented Vaknin’s credentials and character by using clever editing.

Comment from Sam Vaknin:
Thank you for this honest take on “I, Psychopath”. Just several minor corrections: (1) I have twice diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (in 1986 and in 1995); (2) My book was first published in 1997; (3) The PDF version available on my Website comprises only EXCERPTS; (4) I have commented on “I, Psychopath” here: http://www.narcissistic-abuse.com/rebuttal.html I find Shmezl’s review of the film to most accurately reflect my opinion of it: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1407219/reviews?ref_=tt_urv Thank you again. Sam http://www.youtube.com/samvaknin

Thanks for the update! 🙂 — Lucky Otter

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ETA: I found Shmezl’s IMDB review of “I, Psychopath” and will repost what he says here. He doesn’t seem to have many positive things to say about Vaknin, but I guess Vaknin approves of being classified this way, because it makes him the big bad psychopathic narcissist he believes he is (and maybe he really is!) Schmezl doesn’t seem to hold the film’s director, Ian Walker, in very high regard either. Perhaps both of them are raging narcissists, and that probably isn’t too far from the truth, because Vaknin and Walker seemed to dislike each other intensely in the film. When two narcissists are put together, they almost always can’t stand each other. Neither will allow themselves to be used as “narcissistic supply,” unless one of the narcissists is stronger and overtakes the weaker one. But they will still hate each other.

Can’t trust the director
7/10
Author: Shemzl from Israel
24 March 2010
Sam Vaknin, the subject of this documentary, we are told, has a high IQ (185!!!), a sense of humor, an irresistible charm, a fake doctorate, and a submissive-codependent doll of a wife. I saw no sign of the first three. Sam is nothing short of loathsome, with a reptilian quality that would send shivers down any normal spine. He is a sadistic and robotically methodical verbal thug who exalts in his handiwork as he reduces everyone around him to stammering nervous wrecks. His wife, Lydia, is a tragic, heart-wrenching, truly lovable figure. What she sees in this physically and spiritually repulsive putrid shell of a human being is beyond me. The moments with her were the strongest in the movie and Walker made a bad call of not pivoting the film around her demure presence. >I hope she doesn’t get her wish and have kids with Vaknin. She and her children deserve far better.

But I harbor grave suspicions regarding the director of this “gem”, Ian Walker. Clearly, there is no love lost between him and his protagonist, Vaknin. Equally clearly, we cannot trust him to be truthful and to avoid the kind of editing that borders on misleading the viewer.

Consider Sam’s allegedly forged academic degree. Whatever his shortcomings and repugnant traits, Sam is brutally and unflinchingly and invariably and unfailingly honest about himself, his disorder, and what a monster he is. Why would he lie about an irrelevant and minor topic like his academic degree? Throughout the film and in its closing 2 minutes Sam protests that he had attended a full-fledged university with campus, faculty and students; that he had submitted a doctoral dissertation (indeed, it can be found in the Library of Congress!); and that he has had to defend it. Walker than plucks a sentence out of context and adds it artificially to Vaknin’s previous protestations to create the (patently false!) impression that Vaknin admits to having a fake doctorate!!!

Or, consider this: Walker meticulously documents Vaknin’s abusive raging outbursts. On many occasions, it is crystal-clear that Vaknin is reacting to off-camera taunting and ill-treatment by Walker. Walker even admits in his PR material to having “poked this snake with a stick”. The film’s logo is an image of Walker decapitating Vaknin! But Walker never shows us what he did to Vaknin – only what Vaknin did to him, ostensibly unprovoked. Walker uses clever, one-sided editing to achieve a highly unethical result: a misrepresentation of what happened, for sure!

This is what I mean when I say that I cannot trust the seethingly hateful, resentful, and envious Walker to be an impartial guide to Vaknin’s circumstances, conduct, and psyche.

Shouldn’t documentary filmmakers harbor at least a modicum of sympathy and compassion in order to avoid the voyeuristic pornography that most exposes become? Walker failed to skirt this particular trap. Hence 7 stars instead of 10.