Quit thinkin’ about it.
Will Blayne
Posts Tagged: proactive
12
Nov 09
In Under 15 Minutes
I was irritated this afternoon. I was pissy, bitchy, frustrated and crabby. I felt like I was on the verge of a full-fledged funk. No, it wasn’t my period. No, Mark hadn’t done anything. I was out-of-sorts.
History has taught me that if I don’t get a handle on this crabbiness, it can go deep. I didn’t have the time or patience to walk the hill. I’m trying to be disciplined and not reach for a glass of wine. I needed to do something quick, between helping with homework and cooking dinner.
When I was married to Mark, we had a neighbor who was a lovely lady. I’d see her occasionally and she was always pleasant and encouraging. I always looked harried and tired. She didn’t have a clue about my marriage to a narcissist. She probably assumed that I looked the way I did because I was home all day with two little kids.
She’d often look at me with kind eyes and say, “This, too, shall pass.” Initially, I would find comfort in her words, but later I became annoyed with that expression. I kept wondering, “Just when will this pass? How long do I have to wait? Can’t I speed this up a bit?”
I needed to play a more active role in getting through those episodes. Continue reading →
4
Nov 09
Housekeeping
My bathroom is dirty. The kitchen floor needs to be mopped. I probably haven’t vacuumed in … I’m not going to tell you how long it has been. I was just brushing my teeth, noticed the spots on the bathroom mirror, the dusty bathroom floor and thought, “Hm, I really ought to get to that.” I finished my teeth, turned off the bathroom light and walked away. I can walk away from things like that now. I get to determine when I handle those chores.
I get to decide what time we eat dinner. If dinner is lousy, I don’t get any dirty looks or snide comments. I choose what I want to watch on T.V. – when we’re done watching the Disney Channel. I hang pictures where I want. I rake the leaves if I want, or not. I don’t make the beds every day. ( I never have understood that custom. You get out of bed, you eat breakfast, get dressed, go to work or school, come home, do homework, eat dinner and go to bed. No one is there all day to notice that the bed is made. What is the point?)
By now you are thinking I am a slob. I’m actually organized and kind of tidy. But my priorities are different now. After work and school, we work on homework, throw the football, make some birthday cards, eat dinner together, play cribbage or CandyLand. We talk about our day. We commiserate and plan and laugh and drive each other crazy. We enjoy each other and appreciate being together.
And, yes, we do clean the house together. The kids are wonderful about helping because there isn’t the pressure to make everything perfect. Usually we tackle things when I know someone is about to stop by. Then I say, “Okay you guys, go into the livingroom, and if there’s any of your stuff in there, find where it lives.” Then Jenny will usually say, “Are we doing that thing where we pretend like we aren’t messy?”
If I had to suggest a housekeeping tip, it would be this: Make the decision to keep a different house, not the narcissist’s house.
31
Oct 09
Can You Connect With A Narcissist?
My brother has big, chocolate brown eyes. When he is conversing with you, his eyes are focused on you and nothing else. His gaze is warm and welcoming. He doesn’t make you feel like you are being interrogated, he makes you feel comfortable and accepted. My sister-in-law laughs when she talks of how my brother knows everyone in their neighborhood, their dogs’ names, and who might be ready for a pick-up game of racquetball. He can be intense — in a good way. You get the feeling that he is interested in what you have to say, and he wants to know more.
I get energized from connecting with people.
(I admit that connecting with others is a way for my hole to get filled. I know… I’m supposed to do that from within.)
My kids and I will be looking for something at Target, and I’ll ask a clerk for help. Invariably, while she’s leading us to the widget that I can’t find, she’ll tell us about the time that she bought the same widget; how her husband thought she was crazy, but that it did exactly what the product was supposed to do; how her mother-in-law bought the same thing, and now the whole family swears by this widget; and on and on …
I can’t get out of a store without hearing the makings of a life story. Continue reading →
28
Oct 09
Holding Back
It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not.
Anonymous
28
Oct 09
Filling The Hole
I can’t sleep — again. Jenny woke at 2:30 a.m. and came in my bed.
In the old days when I couldn’t get back to sleep, I’d lay there thinking about what I was doing wrong, what I needed to change, or how I could do better. Now when I can’t sleep, I think about how far I’ve come, how I really am doing well, and how I can’t wait to write on this blog.
If you have never tried journaling, you need to. I’ve written in diaries or journals – and now this blog – my whole life. A journal provides a guarantee that you will always be listened to and heard.
Anyway, now it’s 4:00 a.m., so I might as well get up, fix some decaf tea, grab some graham crackers and start writing. It’s funny how as my fingers fly across the keyboard, my head seems to empty of all the thoughts keeping me awake, and my body loses its tenseness.
Tonight I was thinking about my theory – it’s not an original theory. It’s an amalgamation of a bunch of different theories that I’ve read about in all the self-help books that I’ve devoured over the years.
I believe we all have a hole in our soul. Some call the hole a void or an injury. I don’t like “injury”. It’s too dramatic. “Injury” leads to the word “victim”. I don’t like walking around thinking that I’m a victim. It sounds helpless and hopeless. Continue reading →
24
Oct 09
Acceptance
You can either hold yourself up to the unrealistic standards of others, or ignore them and concentrate on being happy with yourself as you are.
Jeph Jacques
24
Oct 09
One Day At A Time
If you’ve read this far, you have most likely suffered from a relationship with a narcissist. Sometimes I find myself thinking that every time I turn around, I find a new person who has been in a relationship with a narcissist, or has discovered, finally, that they were raised by narcissists. Narcissism is very pervasive in our culture, and it seems to be getting more prevalent.
At this point, if you haven’t checked out my disclaimer page, you might want to do that.
I will remind you that I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL on the survival of narcissism. I’m not there yet. I do believe that I’m headed in the direction of becoming a professional narcissism survivor.
Surviving with narcissism is a work-in-progress. I am having way more good days than bad days. I guess that means it’s working.
These aren’t magical steps that will cure you overnight. These suggestions will not have you waking tomorrow morning with a plan for how your life will dramatically change. This is a slow and steady process. But because it is slow and steady, it takes. It will last. You will eventually see that you’ve modified your behavior. You will become pro-active instead of re-active. Your kids will see that you possess a power they didn’t know you had. You will respect yourself and know that you are worthy of a healthy life. Continue reading →
22
Oct 09
Care
Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get.
Unknown
22
Oct 09
Hello, I’m Over Here
I got a letter from a friend today. He prefers to write in longhand. Perhaps his point was so well-taken because he took the time to write the words out on a piece of paper with a pen. He scribbled through a few of the thoughts he wanted to change, and left edits in the margins. It was enjoyable to read. There’s something so personal and real about a handwritten letter.
He is a father-figure for two girls that mean the world to him. He writes of their personalities, their hobbies, and how much they have enriched his life. It’s clear that he is humbled by the fact that they choose to spend so much time with him. He feels that the best he can offer is to be there for them, to be accepting of them and to encourage them. It would seem that offering to be there, to be accepting and to be encouraging would not be too much to ask of a parent. It simply requires that you take a back seat, and not insist on putting yourself first all the time.
I’ve always wanted my kids to feel completely accepted for who they are. I encourage them in their uniqueness. I encourage them in their academics and extra-curricular stuff, but it’s most important that they know I value who they are, not just how they perform. I never want them to feel that they are an inconvenience. That’s the fall-out of being the child of a narcissist. Children of narcissists end up feeling that if they aren’t performing, or serving, then they are an inconvenience.
Another friend of mine, who also has a poor relationship with his father, once told me that he didn’t realize how lousy this relationship was until he had kids of his own. He would check in on his girls while they were sleeping, and he felt that his heart was ready to burst with the love he felt for them. He vividly remembers the first time he thought, “If my dad had ever felt that for me, there’s no way he would have treated me the way he did.” It’s when you have kids of your own that it really dawns on you the capacity you have for love. That’s also when you realize that you came up short in that department. It becomes painfully clear that the narcissistic parent was not capable of being there for you, couldn’t possibly accept you for who you are, and could only encourage you so far as that encouragement might benefit them.
18
Oct 09
Initiate Change
They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.
Andy Warhol
9
Oct 09
Happiness
Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony.
Thomas Merton
9
Oct 09
Drama Is Over-Rated
Mark is here right now. He came by for another visit with the kids. They are playing Twister in the middle of our dining room. He is talking in his sing-song voice. He is talking very loudly. Maybe he talks loud because of his hearing issues. Maybe he talks loud to maintain the stage. I would rather scrape my fingernails across a chalkboard. I would just as soon slit my wrists. Instead, I am pretending to be pleasant. I am being nice so that my children can spend some time with their dad.
After these visits, I used to immediately call a girlfriend or my mom. I would need to tell someone about his weird behavior. I would need to say, “How can he be like this? How is it that he doesn’t know how to enjoy his kids? You should hear the way he talks to them. You should feel how strained the energy is in the room.” I needed to vent. I needed to hear someone say, “I don’t know how you put up with that for so long.” Basically, I needed to have my decision, to leave, validated. I needed to provide more examples and explanations to confirm that I had made the right choice.
Each time we would have one of these visits, and I would make a call to vent, I would feel my blood pressure spike. You know how that is when you get all worked up about something. Someone cuts you off in traffic, someone slights you at work, a clerk is rude to you at the grocery store and you feel your pulse begin to race. You get agitated and defensive and your blood pressure goes up. I would inevitably get myself worked up and I’d have to deal with the fallout of what that stress would do to my body. I wouldn’t sleep well. The next day I would feel a case of heartburn coming on. It wasn’t really heartburn. A doctor once told me that stress creates an excess of acid in your stomach. It sits there until it dissipates and it feels a lot like heartburn.
It got to the point where I realized that I was boring my friends with the same stories. Over and over again, the same things were happening. Nothing was any different. By now, it’s pretty obvious that I left for all the right reasons. No one needs any more convincing. I made the choice. No one else was questioning my decision. It turns out that I was the one still questioning my decision. When I came to terms with that, I could be done with the calls, the venting, the ranting and the drama. I don’t need any more convincing.
When I was done with the drama, I was done with the Pepcid. I was sleeping better. I was less volatile. I felt better. I was at peace. I was happier. I drank less red wine. I drank less coffee. Things seemed to settle down. That’s not to say that Mark was better during these visits. I am saying that I handled them better. Continue reading →
