narcissism « Surviving Narcissism

Posts Tagged: narcissism

Another One Last Try

“Jenny will not go skiing with you tomorrow unless you promise to not talk to her in the baby voice. She asked me to call you and she needs you to promise. Can you do that for her?”

Tuesday afternoon found Mark over for another visit. The weather was nice. They threw the football and played on the swings at the park. They seemed to enjoy each other. Mark and Will came in the house to ask if it would be okay for the kids to go skiing with their dad on Wednesday. I knew I was staring at a potential disaster, but until the kids could tell me that they didn’t want to go, I wasn’t going to stand in the way. My only comment was that Mark would have to ski the gentler runs all day because of Jen’s ability. He said, “Well I haven’t been able to ski with my little girl all year, and I really want to see how she’s doing.” Of course that sounded like he’s been wanting to ski with her, but really the three of us know that he hasn’t skied with her because he prefers the more challenging stuff.

Jenny still remembers the one time we saw him up there this year. He asked if he could ski a run with us because he wanted to see how Jen was progressing. She got very excited. We got off the chair lift, waited for Mark, she made three turns and he yelled, “Good job, Honey. Don’t forget to lead with your toe. I’ll catch ya later.” And he found a cut off that led to a black diamond run. Jen asked me where he went. I was stuck telling her that he chose to go down a different run.

Just this week I read a post on Kelly Diels‘ blog about how you can’t teach people how to treat you. I never have had any luck with that. But when it comes to my kids, I have to do something. And since I can’t tie their dad up, and drag him behind my car down the nearest county road, I thought I’d try teaching him. One more time.

So I made the call, explained that Jen didn’t want to go skiing, but that if he could promise to talk to her like the grown up little girl that she is, she would reconsider. And he said, “Well, she’s my little girl and I love her.” Okay. I know that. I gave him some more time to think about it. He didn’t offer anything, so I said, “Do you think you can put aside the baby voice tomorrow?” He hesitated and said he would try. Continue reading →

Lack of Empathy / The World Revolves Around Me / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 11 Comments
25
Mar 10

Proof That I’m Not a Narcissist

I’ve been trying to find an emoticon that equals “heavy sigh”. Yesterday was a wicked day for Will and Jenny. After some serious triage; administering Cheetos and fudge bars and a large dose of junk TV; I tucked them in their beds. I will be spending the day focusing on repairing the damage to their egos and reminding them that life is also very funny even when it pisses you off.

However, I must tell you that I do have further proof that I AM NOT a narcissist. I just got out of the shower and accidentally caught a full glimpse of my naked back side. Trust me. I would not do that on purpose. And this flash went through my head, “That must be what my grandpa saw when my grandma got out of the shower.” And immediately I was filled with love, sympathy and compassion for my grandpa. That’s real empathy. A narcissist can’t do that.

I am going to tend to my bruised children now. And I’m going to squeeze in 37 walks up the hill at the park, in an effort to erase that vision of my grandma’s back side. Is it too early for a shot?

Child of Narcissist / Opportunistic / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 7 Comments
24
Mar 10

The YCMTSU File

YCMTSU stands for You Can’t Make This Shit Up.

I just got off the phone with my dad. To be honest, he called yesterday and I didn’t pick up. I hear you gasping. A couple months ago when I did pick up he was having some financial problems, so I was a little gun-shy yesterday. But because I am a bad Catholic daughter, the guilt got the best of me today and I picked up.

He said he’d tried calling yesterday. I said I was skiing. That was a lie. (Told you I was a bad Catholic.) He said, “I didn’t know you were a skier.” I said, “Dad, I’ve skied with you. You know I’m a skier.” He said, “I don’t have any short term memory anymore.” I said, “Dad, I’ve been skiing for 37 years.”

He called to share a story with me. It seems that yesterday he’d decided to “end it all”. He’s sick of the weather, his car broke down, his renters aren’t paying and he’s done with the whole damn thing. (Please understand that I have heard the “end it all” talk my whole life. First, I heard it from my grandma, then my dad. This talk is attention-getting at it’s worst.) I reminded him that the Catholic Chrch wouldn’t really take too kindly to his committing suicide. He said, “Well, yes. I would go straight to hell.” I said, “What’s the point of being a good Catholic all those years only to end it with suicide and go straight to hell?” He said, “Well…….”

I said, “Geez, Dad, at least you could wait until the end of golf season. You’ve got at least one more good season in ya.” He said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been swinging really well. I’ll rethink this thing in October.”

I said, “So did you call to give me the story of “Ending it all”? He said, “Oh yeah, that’s right. So I was walking to meet my buddies for lunch at Burger King. You know, since my car broke down. And as I was walking across the street I saw a big semi and some trucks heading for me and I thought, ‘I could do this right now.’ So I stopped in the middle of the road. And you know what happened? The truck in the front stopped and the semi stopped and everybody else stopped.” I said, “Well, Dad, I guess God put his big hand down to direct traffic, huh?” He said, “Guess who was driving the first truck that stopped.” I said, “I don’t know, Dad, tell me.” Continue reading →

Quotes / The World Revolves Around Me — Comments Off
24
Mar 10

Narcissism And Prayer

Sometimes I think that just not thinking of oneself is a form of prayer.

Barbara Grizzuti Harrison

Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 6 Comments
17
Mar 10

I Am A Liar

st-paddys-day This morning we woke to broken shortbread cookie bites and green sugar sprinkles strewn across the kitchen counter and along the floor. A confused Barbie was standing erect in Will’s leprechaun trap. More cookie bites were laying around Jen’s upturned trap. No luck. They still haven’t managed to catch a real leprechaun.

Since Will was five, our home has been annually visited by Larry the Leprechaun. He leaves apples in Jen’s Crocs, stuffed animals in the fridge, bananas on the T.V., tips the furniture and generally wreaks havoc in a playful, good-spirited nature. A couple years ago, the kids collaborated on a pretty brilliant trap. The bait was a pile of coins. On the morning of the 17th, we could see that the money was gone, and all that was left was a pair of leprechaun shoes. That’s the closest they’ve ever gotten to actually catching Larry.

Will is a very literal fellow. He has a single-mindedness that drives him to excel at skateboarding, skiing and golf. It’s that same single-mindedness that makes it almost impossible for him to see the forest for the trees. Trees, hell, he pretty much focuses on the pine needles or the dust on the pine needles. Jenny has a pretty broad lens. She’s four years younger than her brother. She’s going to figure out that Santa and Larry aren’t real long before her brother does. I keep thinking Will is going to catch on and figure out that I’m really Larry, Santa, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. But last night, we were getting ready for bed, and Will panicked. “Dang. Tomorrow’s the 17th and my trap isn’t done!” He scurried around, grabbed a decorated paint can, a gawdy St. Paddy’s Day necklace, a handful of coins and some duct tape. He definitely works better under pressure. Jenny’s trap was completed a week ago and has been hanging – in the middle of the walkway between kitchen and dining room – from a nail. She loaded it with a – now stale – slice of whole wheat bread and a piece of biscotti. I figure I’ll wait a few years before telling her that the better enticement for a leprechaun would be a mug of beer.

As I’m watching Will race around the house, scrambling to put his trap together, I was asking myself some serious parenting questions. Am I perpetuating a fun myth and prolonging the fantasies of childhood, or am I out-and-out lying? I think I have been assuming that he would figure these myths out on his own. At this point, I picture him looking in the mirror while shaving, and having the sudden realization that his mom is really the guy in the big red suit.

I think it’s safe to say that most parents lay awake at night contemplating their parenting skills. I have a tape running through my mind that asks, “How much money should I be setting aside for the inevitable counseling they will need? Was this a good idea to home school? When do we have the sex talk? Should I tell him about sex before I tell him about Santa?” Continue reading →

Child of Narcissist / Moving On — 2 Comments
16
Mar 10

More Lemonade

“Hey, Big Brother, do ya need to use the potty so you don’t have an accident? I’m sure mom could run out and get some diapers that’d fit ya.” Jen and I have been having a grand time teasing Will about whether he’s actually potty trained or not.

I don’t know if my kids are developing thick skins or wicked senses of humor — probably both. They’re also learning to read moods. Jenny was careful to let the dust settle on Will’s story – about his dad asking him if he needed to use the bathroom at the ski hill. There is a narrow window, right after the telling of the story, where hurt feelings have to be acknowledged. Jen and I made a point of telling Will that we imagined how mortified he must have been. We allowed him enough time to kick rocks and say a few choice words. But after that, it’s no holds barred. We dish it out like crazy, make light of the situation, and have a bunch of good laughs, with Will laughing right along with us. I’ve said before that if we don’t laugh at the weirdness of this narcissism, we’ll be spending way too much time with upset stomachs.

As Paulo Coelho says, “ If someone hurts you, react. Forgiveness comes afterwards.” I have to think that humor has to come before forgiveness. Actually it’s probably something more like this:

get hurt
react
swear a lot
eat junk food
laugh
put forgiveness on the calendar

My kids tip-toed around me for a few days after the whole John thing. I’m making fun of myself, now, so they see that they can lighten up, too. I informed them that, “I am pretty fabulous. It’s just that I haven’t found anyone else who believes me.” They both jumped to my defense and said, “Well, we think you’re fabulous!” And then all the ‘excepts’ started. “You’re fab except for when you yell at us. Except for when you make me eat that stir-fry stuff. Except for when you don’t let us watch too much T.V.” And on and on. When they come up with more ‘excepts’, I remind them that we’ll be cruising in May. I’m going to get as much mileage out of that cruise as I possibly can.
Continue reading →

Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 3 Comments
15
Mar 10

Just When You Think There’s a Glimmer of Hope…

“Ah, Dad… I’m actually 11 now. Yeah, I turned 11 on my birthday. In September? I’m not 10, I’m 11.” Mark and Will had gone to the sporting goods store to check out compound bows. Will and I had been in a couple days before, and Will wanted his dad’s opinion on the bows we had talked about. And since I’m completely clueless on the subject, it was a good idea to get another opinion, even if it was Mark’s. So they are talking to the sales guy, asking all the pertinent questions, and Mark says, “What type of bow would you recommend for a 10 year old?” Will later told me that even after he’d corrected his dad, Mark treated him like, “Geez, buddy, I’m your dad. You think I don’t know how old you are? Of course, I know how old my own son is.”

Will was pretty disgusted by the time he got home. So much so, in fact, that he fired off an email to his dad. The email said this:

“Today you were talking to the guy that was helping us with the archery and you said, ‘Do you have any compound bows for a ten yr old?’ By the way I’m eleven and since you are my dad I expect you to remember how old I am, and I especially do right now because I just had my birthday.”

I admit that I thought Will was overreacting a bit. I’m often asking the kids to give me a break. I explain that my ‘filing cabinets’ are jammed. The manila file folders are tattered and dog-eared, and covered with coffee stains. Some of the important papers are missing, some are filed in the wrong place, and some have yet to be filed. This is my way of telling them that I forget stuff. I’m old. Sue me. I do try really hard not to forget things, but it happens. Their dad is 12 years older than I am, so he forgets even more than I do. And, (don’t freak when you read this) I’ve suggested that they give their dad a break, once in awhile, too. It wouldn’t hurt for all of us to be a little more tolerant, right? (Said the accommodator.) Continue reading →

Lack of Empathy / Moving On / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 13 Comments
14
Mar 10

Discarded By A Narcissist

This is a difficult post to write because it brings back so many feelings of inadequacy. Phyllis sent the following comment, and I feel compelled to respond in this post.

“My husband emailed me last night. He is planning to start the divorce after finishing the 2009 taxes. He still “loves me.” Yeah right!”

This comment clearly illustrates the confusing nature of a relationship with a narcissist. In one breath he says, “I’m filing for a divorce.” In the next breath, hell in the same breath, he says, “I love you.”

Huh?

This only makes sense to a narcissist. Continue reading →

Moving On / Recipes — 8 Comments
12
Mar 10

Survivor Chocolate

lucky-number-4 So it’s one o’clock in the morning and I am sitting in front of my laptop, in my cat hair covered robe, with an Ocean Breeze scented candle burning, eating the best fudgy brownie cookies I’ve ever tasted.

I’m not really a scented candle person. I get tired of the same smell by the time the candle burns down. But, I’m on a very tight budget, and I wanted something, in addition to coffee and chocolate, to cheer me up. So we went to Pier 1 and I picked out some candles – Ocean Breeze, Patchouli (to remind me of my college days), Asian something or other, Vanilla and yada yada, and one other. I picture these folks in lab coats, in some white room full of beakers over burners with little flames mixing scents and one of them actually thinks they have put together the right chemicals to smell like an Ocean Breeze? I also bought this little round ceramic ball with my lucky number on it. It can’t hurt. Between the candles and the number four, and my cooperation with the rest of the universe, I’m sure to get my train headed in the right direction again. Maybe.

Jenny came in my bed again and then, as usual, I couldn’t get back to sleep. My head fills with thoughts of John. How is it that some people (mostly men) are so good at turning their brains off? I try to make myself think of things that I don’t like about him, but since that’s fruitless, I switched to thinking about Phyllis and Annie and this blog. Phyllis sent a comment that I want to write about, so I figured now is as good a time as any. Only I came out to write about her comment, and grabbed a cookie, and after one bite, I forgot what I was going to write, so I’ll share this recipe with you all instead. I changed the name of these cookies. Will was craving some kind of dark, fudgy brownie/cookie combo (he’s his mother’s son) and we discovered this recipe and tweaked it a bit. I’m calling them Survivor Crownies because we all deserve a crown for surviving, and because the ‘c’ is for cookies and the ‘rownies’ is for …. Nevermind. I think you get it.

Survivor Crownies

2/3 C butter – softened
1 1/2 C brown sugar – packed (have you ever come across a recipe where the brown sugar isn’t packed?)
1 T vanilla – it seems like a lot, but it’s right
2 eggs – room temperature
1 1/2 C flour
1/3 C cocoa powder
1/2 t salt
1/4 t soda
1 1/2 C semi-sweet chocolate chips

Continue reading →

Moving On — 2 Comments
9
Mar 10

Living On The Roof

lizard brain I miss the roof. There. I said it. We camp out on the roof because of the good and the bad. We are ever-hopeful that the good outweighs the bad. After awhile, we lose sight of that delicate balance.

The good, with John, included that delicious ping sound the computer makes when I get a new email. Those emails used to come from long-distance, John. I’d hear that ping, look at the bottom of the screen, and that cute little envelope would be smiling up at me. I would drop everything and check my inbox. I miss anticipating hearing from him. I miss the plans that I’d made for future visits. I miss the sweetness of that fantasy of a life with John. It’s funny how the missing overshadows the reality. The reality is that I had plans. He didn’t.

I’d been thinking a lot about how it is that we end up staying in unhealthy relationships. Before I even figured out the roof analogy, I was wondering what it was that keeps us in something that ultimately makes us miserable. Is there something in our wiring that makes us gloss over the negative and focus on the positive? What if there is a lot more negative than positive? Is it the same thing that makes women forget the rigors of labor and delivery. If our brains didn’t have the capacity to stifle the negative, the world would be populated with only children, and there’d be no such thing as marriage. We’d all bale out of relationships at the first sign of hurt feelings, thereby making it impossible to stick it out long enough to make it to the altar.

I’ve been following Seth Godin’s Blog. He talks a lot about the lizard brain and fear and resistance and how those things relate to productivity. I’m intrigued by the concept that what holds us back is basically biological. We don’t wake up every morning and say to ourselves, “I’m not going to take risks. I’m not going to jay-walk. I’m not going to talk to that cute guy at work. I’m going to blend in and not make a fool of myself.” There is an unseen force in our brain that controls all those choices.

I assumed, then, that the lizard brain played a part in relationships. And it does. The lizard brain is consumed with the desire to reproduce and the avoidance of fear. Picture this little lizard holding a large blueprint that maps out everything that happened to you up to the age of six. The lizard compares any new situation to this blueprint, and then determines your knee-jerk reaction. If you feared being left as a child, you go out of your way, now, to make sure you will never be left again. If you craved attention as a child, your lizard fears the absence of attention, and will make sure to put you in situations where you get lots of attention. In my case, when getting my feelings hurt, or when I feel rejected, my lizard brain (LB) studies the blueprint carefully and determines that I should be more pleasant, play nice, and keep my disappointments to myself. My LB tells me that if I’m nicer, I won’t get my feelings hurt; I won’t be rejected; and I won’t be deserted. Continue reading →

Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off
4
Mar 10

Loved And Lost

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.

Anonymous

Moving On — 5 Comments
3
Mar 10

Stop The Clock

broken heart It was the winter of 1996 and I was standing in the middle of the produce section of a grocery store wondering how anyone could fuss over a navel orange when my grandfather had just been found, face down in the drifted snow next to his mobile home. I thought for sure that the clocks would have stopped, that time would be frozen somehow, so that everyone could acknowledge the passing of someone who was so dear to me. How could people go on about their day, squeezing heads of iceberg lettuce, griping about the long lines, and fumbling through their purses for coupons? How could life continue to be so ordinary?

I thought of that today when my neighbor walked by with her Golden Retriever. She’s a pleasant gal. I’ve not chatted with her a whole lot. She has commented that she likes the wine glasses hanging from the wine rack above my kitchen window. We exchange pleasantries. She always has a smile on her face. Her dog is beautiful, and he’s always excited to see Rita. Today her smile annoys me. Last night I said goodbye to my long distance friend. I can’t quite fathom how my neighbor can be so damned happy when I feel as though my heart has been flattened, drained of life, and pinned to the bulletin board. Naturally, the neighbor lady doesn’t have a clue. I envy her delight in the simple, mindless pleasure of walking her dog. She makes one pass, two passes, and the kids comment on her happy grin. By the fourth pass, I’m thinking, “Pick a different route. Please.”

I am marveling at how messed up I am at the demise of this relationship. After all, it was long distance. I’m not sure it ever had the chance to get to the point of being called a relationship. We didn’t get to know each other well enough to find out what would irritate us about each other. Maybe that explains the sadness. It’s over before it got bad, or before we had the chance to see that it could be really, really good. But I’ve been thinking all day that it’s strange that I’m worse off now than when I left Mark. Back then, things had been bad for quite awhile when I decided to move out. By the time the kids and I had moved to my mom’s, all I could think was that it was great to be able to breathe again. It was good to see that the sky was still blue. Life could be simple and good. I could find pleasure in the routine of caring for kids, and being with family. We had come out of the darkness at Mark’s. It was hard to be too sad.

The end of this relationship is different because I was clinging to what I thought was the promise of a happy future. I see now that I was clinging to him like a lifeboat. He even told me once that I should remember that this was my first relationship since my divorce — and all that implied. (I hate the word ‘rebound’ as it applies to relationships.) He was a huge part of my surviving the narcissism. I’m thinking I’m going to learn more about the surviving now that I don’t have the lifeboat anymore.

Maybe it’s time we got a dog.

Moving On — 9 Comments
2
Mar 10

Boulders In My Shoes

high-heels Some days are like that. You have to remind yourself to laugh. You have to stop taking yourself seriously. You have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

And after a long day of putting one foot in front of the other, treat yourself to a hot sudsy soak for your toes. I’m going to. Those simple little bright spots — that we can look forward to — they get us through the day. That, and a kiss from my kids.

Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy — 7 Comments
1
Mar 10

No One Can Cut Your Shadow In Half

“How did you sleep?” “Did you have any dreams?” Each morning begins the same way. While rubbing eyes and stretching long thin arms, we ask each other how the night was. We’ve talked about dreams since the kids could talk, or since they first started having dreams. I can’t remember which came first. When Jen was little, she felt left out if Will and I were discussing our dreams, and she didn’t have a dream to share. I don’t know if she just couldn’t remember, or if she had a hard time with the difference between dreams and reality. When it was her turn to talk about her dream she’d always say, “It was about a snowman.” And that was it.

Last night she had a symbolic dream about ‘a guy’ that cut her shadow in half. When she realized that he cut her shadow in two pieces, she cried for a whole day. When she had finished crying, her shadow became whole again. But just as the shadow became one, ‘the guy’ cut her bunny in half. (This was the very special pink bunny that she had gotten when she was in the hospital with pneumonia.) So with tears in her eyes, she brought the bunny to me, and I “sewed the bunny all up and it was good as new.”

I have always felt that we process things and solve problems in our dreams. Some of us are lucky enough to remember dreams, and then we can hang on to what the dream means. Some of us don’t remember much about our dreams. I’ve taken the approach that if we talk about them everyday, we start to remember them more, and we’ll have better access to the lessons. In Jen’s case, each time I’d prompt her to tell us about her dream, all she could come up with was the snowman. But after awhile, she seemed to listen to herself more, and she started remembering her dreams. It’s kind of like intuition — if you stop paying attention to intuition, it will stop speaking to you.

That being said, sometimes (a lot of times) dreams are too bizarre to have any real tangible significance to anything in ‘real’ life. But there’s nothing wrong with a little comic relief in the morning. For example, Jen’s other dream last night was about catching friendly, minuscule rubber-headed leprechauns in a tiny paper house. Not sure where to go with that other than the kids set a trap every year to try to catch Larry the Leprechaun. Maybe she’s working out a plan for a new trap.

Jenny’s dream about ‘the guy’ is pretty straight forward. To me it says, her dad is squashing her spirit (cutting her shadow in half). She has been afraid to cry out when her dad does something that denies who she really is. She is learning the value in crying — showing who she is and how she feels. And as she lets herself out, her spirit (shadow) can be whole. And sometimes she just needs a little help from her mom.

Child of Narcissist / The World Revolves Around Me — Comments Off
28
Feb 10

Let Me In

paw-prints These prints belong to Nina, the world’s most patient cat. She left them on the front step while she patiently waited for one of us to remember to let her in.

I hope this last day of February finds you happy and healthy.