Posts Tagged: narcissistic behavior


10
Feb 10

Narcissism and Lack of Awareness

lampI am writing at the purple table.  I reach for a sip of coffee and kick the cat.

I did not kick her on purpose.

I’ve already mentioned that we live with the world’s most patient cat.  She is affectionate and loving, and she likes my ankles.

I sit at the table, right leg crossed over left, writing, answering questions, breaking up fights, sipping coffee, and writing some more.  Invariably, I have to get up to fix or get or find something, and when I do, I pick up my right leg.  When I lift my leg to get off the chair, my foot comes up and kicks Nina.

I usually catch her in the ribs. Continue reading →


9
Feb 10

Nighttime and the Narcissist

Who thinks of you at night?  Who thinks of you as they turn out the light?  Who sends up a little prayer for you, or gives thanks that you are in their life?

Last night, on my way to bed, I checked on Will and Jenny.  I do every night.  Seems I can’t go to sleep unless I check on them first.  It probably isn’t necessary.  I tuck them in every night.  But I have to see them before I go off to bed.  I remember one night several years ago, I was preoccupied, went to bed, read a bit, turned out the light, and settled in.  I was just hitting that sweet spot between wakefulness and snooze, when I bolted upright and realized I hadn’t checked on them.  I jumped out of bed to make sure that they were snuggled safely in their beds.  Every now and then, Will asks me if I still check on them before I go to bed.  I’m not sure I could go to sleep without first checking on them.

I don’t think it is too much to expect that a spouse or partner might think of you before he closes his day.  Of course, we are busy and exhausted.  There are so many distractions.  There is the need to just unwind and not have to fulfill anymore obligations.  But at the end of the day, can’t we make time for this person who shares a life with us — struggles and all?  Can we share a warm glance that says, “I’m glad you’re here, even if I’m too damn tired to do anything about it?”

I can guess what ran through Mark’s head when I was still living in his house.  It was probably a lot like this:

“Damn, when is that woman going to figure out how to fix pork chops the way I like ’em?  I wish she’d leave me alone with the remote.  God, I hope she tucks the kids in, it’s her job anyway.  I wonder if she remembered to take the garbage out?  Shouldn’t those toys be picked up by now?  I wonder if I have clean socks for tomorrow?  Do I have to sit through one more story about the kids?  Wonder if I’ll get any tonight?” Continue reading →


7
Feb 10

The Proper Care and Feeding of Your Narcissist

Eight years ago on Super Bowl Sunday, I was two months pregnant with Jenny.  I had round-the-clock morning sickness.  To this day, I tell Jenny that she was worth every trip to the bathroom.

One of my favorite pictures is a shot of me, looking awful from the morning all-day sickness, holding a gallon-sized container of Atomic Fireballs.  There’s something about the hot spicy jawbreakers that kept the sickness at bay.  They were an absolute lifesaver.  I had an Atomic Fireball in my mouth for 7 months.

Poor Will was going on four years old.  He got used to me hanging out in the bathroom.  In fact, after Jenny was born, I was doing something, let out a cough, and I heard Will say, “Mommy, are you throwing up again?”

Anyway, we had been invited to a Super Bowl Party.  I was sitting in a chair, trying to summon up the strength to put on my shoes.  I did not want to go to the party, but I didn’t want to disappoint Mark and Will.  I looked at Mark and said, “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t go.  I feel like all I’ve been doing is trying to simply exist.”  He looked at me, let out a sigh of frustration and said, “Well, that is all you’ve been doing.”

__________ Continue reading →


4
Feb 10

His Narcissism and Her Restlessness

She pulls up every day at about 11:30 in the morning.  She parks her new car next to the park across the street from our house.  She gets out and immediately lights up a cigarette.  Her clothes have a kind of urban style.  Maybe she’s a professional of some sort — lawyer, doctor, counselor, accountant or banker.  I imagine she might be between appointments or on her way to lunch.   She usually dresses in dark colors, a leather car coat and delicate, black framed glasses.  She’s tall and thin with dark brown hair.  She never stands still.  Most of the time she’s talking on her cell, walking back and forth, beside the length of her car.  She’s trying to quit smoking.  She doesn’t want to smoke inside her car.

She promised her partner that she had quit, and she fools herself into believing that he won’t smell it on her, or the car.

When she talks on her cell, she seems excited and happy.  She acts like someone who has something wonderful to look forward to.  She barely pays any attention to the cigarette in her hand.  She’s one of those interesting people who can’t seem to talk without moving their hands.  I half expect her to send either her phone or the cigarette flying.  Every time she makes a point in the conversation, I see her emphasize with her hand, or look up at the sky and let out a laugh, or sometimes she does all three at once.

She appears to be energized by the conversation.

The mornings when she’s not talking on her phone, she seems like a completely different person.  She smokes one cigarette after another.  She paces beside her car, head down, with her other hand in her pocket.  It’s as if she’s waiting for the phone to ring, or contemplating her next appointment, or mentally ticking off her to-do list. Continue reading →


1
Feb 10

When Narcissists Win Grammys

We watched the Grammys last night.  The Grammys might also be called, “The Music World’s Parade of Narcissists“.  We watched to see the artists we like, but as the spectacle continued, we became annoyed by the display of glitz and the embarrassing acceptance speeches.  The extravaganza took on all the fascination of a train wreck.  We felt compelled to watch to see which Narcissist would attempt to out-do the other Narcissists.

It was painful, hilarious, disgusting, and not in the least entertaining.  Just what do the Grammys have to do with music?

At the risk of sounding like I’m channeling my grandma when she watched the debut of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, I have to wonder, what do baggy pants have to do with entertainment?  The station had to block the sound on half of the lyrics “sung” by Eminem and his bad-ass buddies.  Is this music worthy of any awards?

At one point Jenny said, “Why don’t they wear regular clothes, stop acting so weird, and just sing?”  Will noticed that the audience wasn’t clapping very enthusiastically, and said, “I think they’re only clapping to be polite.”  What part of the Elton John/ Lady Gaga spectacle was entertaining?  Maybe it was a fine display of marketing and packaging in an attempt to sell more CDs, but I’m not rushing out to buy anything based on what I saw, and I like Elton John.

Check out the lyrics for the Black Eyed Peas’, ‘Imma Be’.  The only line missing is, “Imma Be a Narcissist.” Continue reading →


31
Jan 10

Narcissism and ROI

piggy-bankI had the “Finals Week Dream” last night.  I used to have that one a lot.  In the dream, it’s finals week and I’m looking at the printout that shows the schedule for my finals.  I’m going over the schedule, thinking about how much time I’ll be able to cram for each test, and I see a final on there that makes me absolutely panic.  I keep staring at the class number.  My brain starts spiraling.

Crap.

I forgot to go to that class last quarter!  How can I pass a final for a class I forgot to attend?

I guess it has something to do with failing to be prepared?  I’ve heard of people having the “Forgot The Baby On Top of the Car Dream”.  Mine is always about having to take a final for a class I never attended.

After waking to that sense of relief that comes with realizing that it’s just a dream, my mind had all these accounting acronyms swimming around in it.  Things like ROI (Return On Investment), LIFO (Last In First Out), and FIFO (First In First Out), that I haven’t thought about since college. Continue reading →


28
Jan 10

The Blogger as Narcissist

Maybe I’m the Narcissist?

I’m the one writing this blog.

Could be I’m every bit as narcissistic as my wasband.

That thought used to keep me awake at night.

I’ve taken the tests.  I’ve read the books.  It’s not lost on me that with as much time as I spend writing and thinking about my life, I could be every bit as narcissistic as he is.  Add to that the fact that I’m putting this all out there for the world to see.  But I have enough experience in, and knowledge about, NPD to know that I’m not the narcissist.

I sleep well.

Writing this blog has been the best thing to happen to me in a long time.   I started out venting, spewing, rationalizing and explaining.  Now I see that writing this blog has been instrumental in helping me move on.  There are fewer days when I wallow in the “poor me”; and a lot more days when I marvel at how far the three of us have come. Continue reading →


27
Jan 10

Diet or Divorce

heartsI did a double-take when I saw him.  Is that who I think it is?  We were walking toward each other, and I could tell that he was trying to figure out who I was, too.  “Hey, Jesse, is that you?”  It was him.  “Chris, how are you?  Haven’t seen you in awhile.”

He was a lot thinner than the last time I’d seen him.  He had that crooked smile that I remembered from high school.  He had a spring in his step.  It’d been about four years since we’d last visited.  He used to come into Mark’s shop.  We’d compare notes on kids, marriage, and the weather.  He always looked like he was going through the motions, pretending to be happily married, saying all the right things, and enthusiastically speaking of his son’s soccer games or hunting trips.  But each time I saw him, he was a little heavier, a little sadder, a little bit collapsing under the weight of the world.

“So, Jess, how come I never see you at the shop?”  It always surprises me when I run into someone that doesn’t know I’m divorced.  We live in a pretty small town.  “I divorced the shopkeeper.”  Chris said, “Hey, I’m going through the same thing right now!  Never been happier.  I’ve lost 65 pounds since June.  I feel great!”  I asked how long he’d been married, and he said he’d made it 22 years.  I said, “Geez, I only made it 12.”

As we went on our separate ways, Chris said, “12 years is a long time if you aren’t with the right person.”


26
Jan 10

Apologize

Never ruin an apology with an excuse.
Kimberly Johnson

25
Jan 10

Why Did the Narcissist Cross the Road?

The other night I really yelled at Jenny.  Yes, it is only January, and I have  already managed to remove myself from contention for Mother of the Year – 2010.  That didn’t take long.  Truth be told, I probably committed my first infraction on January 1st.

Jenny is a selective eater.  In Jenny’s case, ‘experimental eating’ means anything other than PBJ, chocolate milk, mandarin oranges and finely grated cheddar cheese.  I had put a bowl of homemade soup in front of her.  I will say that at least she tries what I present.  She doesn’t whine.  She has a couple bites and then politely asks for something that she will actually eat.  This particular night, I blew a grommet.  I lost my temper.   I know all the psychological damage that can be caused by making an issue out of food.  I have my own fond memories of sitting at the table trying to gag down ice-cold canned spinach – like it’s any better when it’s warm.

I’m not proud to tell you that she ended up in tears.  I was a jerk.  After I made her a peanut butter and jelly, I apologized.  I really apologized.  I said, “Jenny, I am sorry.”  I thought of saying any one of the following:

  • “I’m sorry.  I’m getting my period.  I wish you would eat the damn soup.”
  • “I’m sorry, but you frustrate the hell out of me and I just wish you would eat what I put in front of you.”
  • “I’m sorry that you are so selective about what you eat.”
  • “I’m sorry I spent all day making homemade soup, only to have you turn your nose up at it.”

Instead, I admitted that I made a mistake, and I simply said, “I am sorry,”  without  justifications, rationalizations or explanations. Continue reading →


22
Jan 10

Children of Narcissists Take Detailed Notes

winterWinter forgot about us for a couple weeks — long enough for the snow to melt and the birds to enjoy pretending that it might really be over.  But, winter made an impressive return today.  Apparently it’s wanting to remind us just who the boss really is.  I had asked my young cousin if he might be able to split the rest of our wood.  I’m hoping it gets us through the rest of the season.  Will loves the opportunity to hang with an older guy, strut around with a hatchet in his hand, and have an excuse to drink coffee.

My cousin has plenty of stories to tell of his own absent father.  His dad is my dad’s brother.  They both cut class during Fatherhood 101.  They were too busy talking about one’s hot GTO and the other’s riches from the recent poker game.  They had their priorities.  It was interesting to listen to my cousin and my son compare notes about their dads.  Both of them have these tough exteriors that would lead you to believe that they really don’t give a damn, and that they are doing just fine without.  I expected one of them to say, “Who needs a dad, anyway.”  My cousin took a sip from his mug and said, “Ya know, last year my dad didn’t call me from November to April.  Not once.”  He initially said it like it was a badge of honor.   But I could see in his eyes that he’s trying to understand how his dad could go for so long without having any interest in his life.  He’s keeping track.  He’s taking notes.  He’s not going to forget. They head out to split wood.  I can hear each chop.  I imagine that with each swing of the ax, those boys are letting out their anger, frustration, disappointment and hurt.  At least I hope they are.

While they are chopping, Jenny and I sit at the kitchen table.  Jenny is creating a very detailed drawing of her new doll.  A friend brought Jenny a beautiful rag doll from Mexico.  She is colorful, happy and ready to be loved.  Just like Jenny.  I’m working on a sewing project that I promised Jen I’d finish.  I love how when you are doing simple chores or projects with your hands, your mind opens up and things come out your mouth.  I always hear little pearls coming from my kids.  They don’t need prompting.  When their hands are busy and don’t require input from their brain, their brain is free to cycle, and suddenly they express things that have been buried.  Jenny often brings up the story of the yellow blanket with the embroidered blue birds.  We were living at Mark’s.  Jenny was three.  She wanted to bring the blanket down to the living room from upstairs.  Mark stopped her in her tracks and said, “You have enough toys in the living room.  That blanket has to stay up in your bedroom.”  In her sweet little voice she pleaded with her daddy to let her bring the blanket downstairs.  After all, she had a baby downstairs that was cold.  She needed the blanket.  Mark told her to put the blanket back in the bedroom.  That was the end of the conversation.

To this day, Jenny doesn’t understand why that was such a big deal.  Why would it matter to bring the blanket downstairs?  She has taken notes on a couple other instances where Mark insisted on something that just didn’t make sense.  I know Will has a bunch of notes, too.  He actually has notebooks in his bedroom where he writes of the strange dealings with his dad.

Today I learned that Jenny recently asked her dad about the yellow blanket incident.  She said that when she did, Mark said, “Oh honey, that was your mommy that didn’t want the blanket downstairs.  That wasn’t me.”  Narcissists don’t realize that others take notes.  Then I said to Jenny, “I’m impressed that you had the guts to talk to your dad about that.”  She responded with, “Oh, yes, I did.  But that was the last of my guts.” Continue reading →


14
Jan 10

The Insidiousness of Narcissism

I’m tired tonight.  I’m that kind of tired where I tell myself, “It’s okay if you go to bed without brushing your teeth.  No one will know.  You never do that.”  Except — I remember telling myself that one night last week, too.

Mark was here for a visit this afternoon.  It drains the energy out of all three of us.  After he leaves, we snip at each other.  We lose patience with each other.  We all know that it happens, and yet we have to tell each other to calm down.

On the second day of this new year, I had what I hoped would be a potentially relationship-changing conversation with Mark.

Okay, so I thought I’d had these with him in the past, but this was different.  We were going to start the New Year off on the right foot.

The kids had ended a “Goodnight Call” with Mark, and after hanging up, they both started crying. Continue reading →


12
Jan 10

Toxic Narcissists

You do not have the right to quit trying.  (The universe wobbles when you do.)  You have the right to quit toxic people.  (They’re contagious.)
Dr. Sun Wolf

11
Jan 10

Noxious Narcissism

bind-weedThe other day Will and I were riding home from the ski hill with grandpa.  The subject of  “Blooming where you’re planted” came up.  I don’t think I’d find many people to disagree with the premise — be happy where you are planted.  I asked grandpa what he thought about the fact that there might be a lot of weeds where we are planted.  He responded by saying, “The best way to deal with weeds is to make sure the plant is healthy.”  He is right, of course.  The healthier the plant, the less chance the weeds have to take over.

I pretend to be a gardener.  I love gardening and flowers and vegies and being outside playing in the dirt with the kids and the worms.  I never use any kind of chemicals.  That stuff scares me.  In fact, for me it is therapeutic to pull weeds.

We have a lot of bind weed where we live.  Circling our little garden is a four foot fence made of chicken coop wire.  It is just about impossible to uncoil bind weed from that fencing, once it has a chance to get started.  And actually, bind weed is kind of pretty when it blooms.   Bind weed is part of the Morning Glory family. I usually ignore the bind weed that crawls up the fencing.  It looks nice when it blooms, and it’s difficult to get rid of once it takes over.  But bind weed needs to be pulled before it wraps its tendrils around young seedlings.  I try to get Sweet Peas to climb that same chicken coop fencing.  It does well if I can keep the bind weed away from it.

So back to the ride home from the ski hill.

I was enjoying that exquisite relaxation that comes from a day of exercising outside.  I didn’t have to focus on driving.  My mind was thinking about blooming and weeds and toxicity and narcissism.  Suddenly I envisioned Mark wrapping his arms around Will and pulling him onto his lap — the way he has done since Will was a toddler.  He always seemed to be restraining Will.  He’d refuse to let him run around and play.  He seemed to want to pin him down in an effort to control him.  And then I envisioned the way bind weed wraps around a vulnerable little Sweet Pea seedling — choking it.  The Sweet Pea seedling bends under the weight of the bind weed.  It is helpless until someone comes along and pulls the bind weed.  I could see my own little Sweet Peas struggling to stand tall, to catch a breath, to reach the sun, to grow and bloom. Continue reading →


9
Jan 10

Livin’ The Dream

bloomingI really don’t like grocery shopping.  That’s a bit of an understatement.  I always go to the same place, so I can put it on auto-pilot.  I know where everything is.  I look at my list.  I get it done.  But, the folks that work at the place where I shop are a nice bunch.  They are quick to greet and say ‘hello’.  There’s a new guy in the produce section.  He’s young and enthusiastic, and he’s embracing the store’s obvious policy for placing emphasis on customer service.  The first time I saw him, he was working with the apples and oranges, turning them to make them look more appealing.  He glanced my way, and with a pleasant smile said, “Hi.”  I asked him how he was doing, in that sometimes  mindless way that I answer greetings.  He chuckled a bit and said, “Livin’ the dream!”  I was taken by surprise with that response.  It wasn’t the usual, “Fine.  How are you?”  In fact, I remember thinking, “Really?  You dreamed of being the produce guy?”

“Livin’ the dream” requires knowing what your dream is.  Maybe he did dream of being the produce guy.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  He’s a lot further along than those of us who are still trying to figure out what our dream is.  Could be he’s a wise old soul that has figured out that it doesn’t have a whole lot to do with a dream or a goal.  It’s more about embracing good work, good friends and family, and  keeping your mind open  to learning  new things.  I’m secretly  starting to think  that all that stuff about  ‘enjoying the journey and not the goal’  is really true.  Plus, it takes the  pressure off  of me for still  not having  figured out  what my dream is.  Yikes.  I can’t believe that enjoying the journey could even mean finding something positive about grocery shopping.  Although, some of those chance encounters with others at the grocery store can be pretty fun.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to that expression, “Bloom where you’re planted.”  You can run from problems, and end up in a new neighborhood with different versions of the same problems.  Or, you can stay where you are and develop the skills necessary to deal with whatever life puts in front of you.  It seems the real trick is realizing that while the grass has a lot of weeds in my little yard, it’s still pretty green.  Some days it may seem like the turf would be more lush some where else, but I’m betting there’s still going to be a few weeds.  I’ve also noticed, however, that having narcissists to deal with on a regular basis is a lot like having some really wicked weeds in the yard.  I’m not ready to pull out the Roundup, yet.  But there are days when a hoe and a rake just don’t cut it.

I don’t know if the produce guy dreamed of sorting fruits and vegies.  I suppose that one day I could strike up a conversation and ask him.  Maybe I’ll do that on a day when Jen and Will aren’t with me.  I don’t need to embarrass them any more than I already do.  But, it’s sweeter thinking that maybe this pleasant young fellow has mastered the art of  “Blooming where he’s planted.”  Or maybe there’s some sort of natural high to be gained from working with produce all day.