This Time It Will Work

this-time-it-will-work

When you first come into my sights, when you appear between those crosshairs and I sense your empathic qualities, your adherence to the traits which make you so attractive to me, I am filled with optimism. I have spoken on many occasions about my need to extract fuel on a daily basis. This ritual necessitates the acquisition of someone who will be my primary source and then a whole host of secondary and tertiary sources who are drawn from friends, family, strangers, colleagues and so forth. It is a ceaseless task but one which I am built for, one I have been designed for and one which I will always apply myself to. I prefer to conserve my energies and that is why I live in hope that this time the person that I have targeted will be the one who will not let me down. On this occasion I have found the person who will be my primary source so that I never have to embark on the devaluation of this person because they have failed in their obligation to provide me with fuel. Many people may regard me as prejudicial person and it is true that I pre-judge people, but only ever do so on the basis of satisfactory evidence. I look for the necessary traits in how you interact with others, the things that you say and what you do. I watch carefully before I make my move. When I see the very things which I cherish and require for the purposes of gathering fuel, I experience an elation. There is excitement and anticipation. Mostly it is because of the fuel which I hope to gather from you, that delicious and golden fuel which super charges me, invigorates me and provides me with the power to sail through life charming and attracting. However, my excitement is not all based on the anticipation of tasting your fuel. No, a significant part of my anticipation is borne out of the fact that you might just be the one. You could be that person who does not let me down. You could be the one who finally provides me with such sweet fuel that I never have to go elsewhere for a primary supply. I cannot give up my supplementary sources as they are a reserve and a contingency for when I am not able to draw my main fuel from you as my primary source. This is not because I have cast you aside or because you have committed that treacherous act of escaping me and instigating no contact. Not at all. The reserve is required because owing to various factors I cannot be by your side every hour of day or in some form of contact with you to this extent. This means that much as I delight in your sweet, sweet fuel, I am forced to obtain it elsewhere and this is from those supplementary sources. It is you however that I still look to for the best fuel. You who I look to in order to provide me with the most fuel and to do so with comforting regularity. I want this fuel from just one primary source. You seem to think that I revel in the abuse that I dole out when I devalue my primary source victim, but I do not. It may look that way, a side effect of the power that courses through me as I drink deep of that negative fuel but in truth I would much rather never have to go down that route. I would prefer that you continue to pump out that positive fuel to such an extent that it always remains satisfactory for me. I want you to be the one that is always there, reliable, dependable and magnificent in the production of your fuel. You would benefit too. There would be no awful abuse as devaluation takes place. There would be no mystifying discard (mystifying to you at least – it makes perfect sense to me) and then I would not even have to go to the trouble of applying various types of hoover in order to bring you back to me. Imagine avoiding all of that and remaining in the glorious golden period of seduction the whole time? I know how much you love that. I have seen it in your eyes, I have seen you speak of it and of course I have seen how hard you have fought at times to recover it. You adore and worship the golden period and you can have that. You can have that all the time. All I ask of you is to keep providing me with that fuel at the potency and level that is appropriate and demanded. It cannot be too difficult for you can it? You once did it. You provided it brilliantly but then you let me down by not providing the quality I was used to. You diminished the frequency and became unreliable, thus hurting me and that could not be countenanced. You had to be hurt in return. There was no hope for any other way. Imagine being able to avoid bringing all that horror on yourself as you keep doing what is necessary. You keep giving me my fuel at the prescribed level and in return you get to stay in the golden period forever. This is what I hope for too and you think that I am selfish. Not at all. We both win. You have the golden period and I have the golden fuel. This is what I hope for each time a new target presents itself and I begin my work to consider moving to the seduction of this target. I am filled with hope, I am filled with optimism that this time, just for once, you will keep on doing what I need and you will not let me down. No matter how many times this has happened in the past. No matter how many times I have been betrayed and hurt by the treasonable conduct of those who said, so many times, that they loved me and they always would, I have always continued to believe in the power and capacity that the next target may just be the one. I am not a bad person for believing in that way am I? I just want to find the right one for me. Just like you do.

You want to find the person that you will love for the rest of your life, I want to find the person whose fuel I will love for the rest of my life. Surely you can understand and appreciate that? Surely you must accept that such a notion is noble? Surely you understand why I always think that you might be the one. This time.

Advertisements

The Narcissistic Truths – No 1 (Expanded)

every-dayspent-with-memeans-anotherpart-ofyour-heartdies

The heart of an empath is treasured by our kind. Whilst our own hearts are black and iced, the heart of the empath radiates with fuel. It is capable of love, desire, admiration, compassion, concern, hurt and so many other emotions which radiate from it. The empathic heart is a veritable fuel pump and as such is coveted by us. It has so much more to it than that which we have in our hearts. We are envious of this but recognise how such a heart is there to serve us and cater for our needs.

You, as an empathic individual, also have one further major difference between your heart and ours.

Yours is free.

Your heart is free to choose who it engages with. Who it falls in love with, who it wishes to show joy to, who it wishes to share its innermost desires and secrets with. It is free to show its pain to those that it chooses.

We are jealous of that freedom. Our desire to receive the bountiful fuel which is pumped from you by this delicious heart brings with it our desire to capture it and prevent you exercising this freedom any further.

Our dark hearts are bound to the venom that flows through us, to the vitriol which we spray over those around us and the adherence to hatred, envy, fury and other such dark emotions. Our hearts know no such freedom like yours. The nature of our hearts is that they are pre-ordained in how they will function.

In capturing your heart for the purposes of fuel, we also desire to capture your heart to take away this freedom that you have and the absolute method of removing this freedom is to bring about the effective ‘death’ of your heart.

We are insidious agents, proponents of the salami-slicing approach which enables us to secure our aims through a thousand deft and delicate cuts so that you never notice what is actually happening. We are no different in this modus operandi when it comes to the ‘killing’ of your heart. The death of your heart is effected through the removal of its freedom.

Each and every day we advance our cause to gain fuel and to secure the bondage of your heart, little by little, as we strip it of its freedom. Through the dazzling love-bombing we invade it, taking it piece by piece so that it belongs to us. We permeate your life through our compliments, our apparent love, our fabricated passion for you, our illusory desire as you are gradually over run and conquered. With each passing day as we unleash our charm on you, our legions of text messages, our battalions of telephone conversations and the marching foot soldiers of love, we take a piece of your heart and capture it. Thus a part of it has effectively ‘died’ since it has lost that free will.

Of course, entirely consistent with the notion of romance that you have been indoctrinated with, the capture of your heart in such a way is regarded as a wonderful thing. You are  regarding this capture as one which is healthy, respectful and you do not recognise that it has been predicated on a false premise.

Once we have you embedded your heart is ours. It has been captured. You no longer are afforded the choice of where your emotions can be directed. They must be directed towards us and us alone for the purposes of our fuel provision. The onslaught continues as having captured your heart, we then set about our scorched earth approach through devaluation as our despicable manipulations and horrid machinations are deployed against you for the purposes of maintaining the occupation of your heart and the total hegemonic control of its emotional output.

We captured the good – the love, the admiration, the compassion, the happiness, the joy and so forth.

Now we capture the bad – the pain, the hurt, the fear, the terror, the hatred and all other negative emotions.

Little by little, day by day, we invade your heart and occupy it, making it ours, commandeering its emotional resources for our own use and in so doing we strip away its ability to function in a free manner.

The removal of this freedom is how your heart dies when you are with us.

This happens on a daily basis as we slowly cause your heart to ‘die’ through our polluted control of you.

Wounded Creature

I would never hurt an animal, not intentionally. I am an expert marksman but I would never shoot a live animal. I am not fond of animals, I have never kept a pet and I never will. Caring for or hurting an animal has no interest for me. I should imagine that has taken a few of you by surprise. I should imagine that you saw the picture of this fox with his cast and thought, “This is where he shows more of his sadism by revealing that he tortured guinea pigs when he was  a child or shot at birds in the garden with an air rifle.” I am pleased to disappoint you. That never happened. I am well aware that hurting animals may be a sign of no conscience but it does not follow that a lack of conscience means that you will hurt animals. I know that certain individuals obtain an emotional gratification by hurting an animal as this is about exhibiting the ultimate control. I regard those that engage in that type of behaviour as low-functioning epsilon semi-morons. An animal cannot answer you back, it cannot tell you things or say the wrong thing. I do think that animals display certain self-centred narcissistic tendencies, feed me, wash me, stroke me, play with me, walk me, clean my living space and so on. They require a lot of attention and that is why I cannot countenance ever having one as a pet. I suspect that is the reason why I have never hurt one.

No, my ire exists for the wounded creature, the pathetic person that is weak. I do not like babies because they are weak and absorb attention away from me. I do not like the elderly, they are weak and they absorb attention away from me with all the help they need. I also want no reminder of how mortality fades and they are the spectres hovering at the end, reminding us that the reaper’s scythe is nearing. I do not like the ill, they are weak and they absorb attention away from me. I think you are getting the picture now. I know you empathic people reach out to these people and that society dictates that these groups should be cared for. That does not resonate with me. They infuriate me. I would rather they disappeared and did not distract from my purpose. Should they come within my reach they find themselves subjected to my irritation and displeasure which results in me lashing out  with acidic tongue and savage words at them in order to exhibit my annoyance. I know you regard that as wrong but I am just being honest. It is what I feel. Now you know why my kind ditches you for a younger model, pays no interest to the birth of our child and why our kind always vanishes when you are ill or injured and in need of care. We have no desire to be reminded of weakness, not when it threatens us from inside on a daily basis.

 

Here Comes The Rain Again

I love the rain. I have a lodge in the countryside and like to sit on its veranda and gaze across the lake as the rain lashes down. I hear it drumming on the roof, a steady, reliable rhythm. I can see the large droplets cascading down into the lake, striking the foliage that grows on the edge of the water, the splashes and rivulets visible from my vantage point. After a time I am always compelled to leave my seat and walk the short distance from my lodge to the lakeside. I have brought most of my girlfriends here. It is tranquil and beautiful. The lake is about a two miles long and half a mile wide and is rather deep. Excellent for fishing. One can walk all the way around the lake and I have done so with my girlfriends as we strolled through the woodland, isolated from the rest of the world.

I like to stand on the edge of the water and stretch my arms out wide and tilt my head upwards and feel the heavy drops of rain pelt against my face causing me to blink as they land on my eyes. The cold water trickles down my cheeks and over my chin as the steady patter continues, eventually soaking into my clothing. I often lose track of how long I stand there, feeling the water striking me and then running off me. I never feel cold and I don’t notice the wet, not really. I feel clean though, the cleanest I’ve been as the edifying pluvial downpour continues. Each drop that hits me seems to take with it the dirt and disease, casting it down onto the ground beneath me. The impurities are washed away, the droplets scouring the contamination from my skin. The water strikes me and the spray that rises dashes the filth away, the mire rinsed from me. It feels to me as if God has sent his purity to scrub away the muck, grime and pollution that clings me to me for far too long. I am soon soaked as the water dilutes the sin and flushes away the stains.

There is innocence in the rain. For however so long it is that I embrace the downpour, I am divested of my cynicism and just for a while everything I have ever done, everything I have ever said no longer matters. I have been stripped of it all. I would stand like this with Karen. She would adopt the same pose. I would hear her gentle laugh as she opened her mouth to let the rain get inside of her and she held my hand, both of us arms outstretched as if we were being crucified. Even now as I close my eyes against the deluge I hear that soft laugh but I know she is not besides me anymore. She knew what the rain did and does for me. She understood.

A Very Royal Narcissist

A VERY ROYALNARCISSIST

On Saturday 19th May, Rachel Meghan Markle (“RMM”) married Prince Harry and this  union is attracting just as much attention for the debacle surrounding the bride’s family as the event itself. One cannot avoid the repeated mention of Miss Markle and Prince Harry and they are rarely out of the press headlines – just the way she likes.

An announcement has been made on 15th October that Miss Markle is now pregnant. A swift pregnancy following the wedding and typical of the binding behaviour of the narcissist to fall pregnant or cause a partner to become pregnant quickly to ensure that the ensnared empathic victim is bound tightly as possible to the narcissist. On top of that, Miss Markle attended the wedding of Princess Eugenie on 12th October with her coat unbuttoned around her stomach (when it need not have been) to invite speculation that she may well be pregnant and of course draw attention to her and away from the bride. Such speculation became confirmation with the announcement shortly thereafter Miss Markle is pregnant, again drawing attention to her and away from the bride. There was ample opportunity to make an announcement a decent time before the wedding or a week or so thereafter, but instead it has been declared in a matter of days, thus enabling Miss Markle to steal someone else’s thunder and maintain her thirst for attention, namely fuel. These upstaging antics were noticed by Eugenie’s mother, Sarah Ferguson, who launched a twitter blitz of photographs of her daughter’s wedding as a response to the behaviour of Miss Markle.

Is she a narcissist? Her half-sister, Samantha Markle certainly thinks so as she has been particularly outspoken about RMM calling her

a narcissist, a shallow, social climber”

She has also criticised RMM for failing to provide any emotional or financial support to her and RMM’s father once RMM became famous. Others have described Samantha Markle as being jealous and exhibiting a sense of entitlement. Are Samantha’s remarks accurate and demonstrate what RMM is and those attacking Samantha are the coterie and Lieutenants of RMM, as they attempt to limit any damage and discredit Samantha or are they the remarks  and the ramblings of a jealous sibling? It is difficult to assess in isolation. However, it is interesting that Samantha chose such a description. If she wanted to insult RMM she might have chosen other unpleasant descriptions such as branding her a whore, a gold-digger, stand-offish and such like. Thus, might there be some grain of truth (when viewed cynically) in what Samantha Markle has said?

Samantha Markle also commented that RMM watched the royals on television when young (hardly anything unique in that) and that RMM preferred Harry as she has a soft spot for gingers and it was always her ambition to be a princess. It is hardly a revelation that a young girl wants to be a princess, many do aspire to that dream as part of their childhood and drop such a notion as they grow older.

Other family members have not been shy at expressing their opinion about RMM. Her Uncle Michael Markle stated

I’m upset and surprised about not being selected but if they don’t want me there, then I don’t want to go.”

Half-brother Tom Markle Jnr remarked

She’s torn our entire family apart. She’s clearly forgotten her roots.” 

He claims he sent her a congratulatory letter on her engagement which was not replied to.

Two other uncles have been snubbed, one a bishop (admittedly of his own church) and the other a retired US diplomat. It appears only two family members of RMM have actually been invited and the farce surrounding her father’s attendance/non-attendance on her wedding day has clogged-up many a newsfeed. It transpires that it is her mother Doria Ragland who will attend and give RMM away. Her mother has only arrived in the UK three days ago where one might have expected a longer attendance given the high-profile nature of the wedding. Did she not want to come sooner or was she not permitted to do so?

Is it the case that RMM is surrounded by a dysfunctional family and thinks it better that they should not attend or is it the case that whilst her family may have their issues they wish to share in RMM’s happy wedding day and would do so without complication, but RMM sees their attendance and involvement as embarrassing, a reminder of where she came from (which she wants to forget now she is in the rarified atmosphere of royal life) and thus is most content to keep them an ocean away and uninvited? A caring individual would most likely invite family because, well, they are family. Yes, the odd relative may not be invited for cogent reasons but to only have two family members attend does smack of a calculated decision to keep them away because they no longer serve any purpose and would damage RMM’s image. If so, such behaviour is in line with the narcissistic behaviour of maintaining a particular appearance and cutting people off quite readily.

Such a conclusion gains credence with the revelations from former friend Ninaki Priddy who was friends with RMM for thirty of RMM’s 36 years on the planet. Miss Priddy commented

Meghan was calculated, very calculated in the way she handled people and relationships. She is very strategic in the way she cultivates circles of friends. Once she decides you’re not part of her life, she can be very cold. It’s this shutdown mechanism she has.”

Miss Priddy’s observation, if accurate, paints a picture of significant narcissistic behaviour by demonstrating

  • calculated behaviour to achieve an aim
  • friendship is developed for ulterior gain, not for the friendship in itself
  • the switching behaviour – white to black
  • the swift execution of such behaviour evidencing a lack of empathy

Having been a friend for such an extensive time period Miss Priddy must have some basis for the remarks. Might she however be a jealous friend? Her friendship ended with RMM owing to the way RMM treated her first husband, Trevor Engleton. A disapproval of such behaviour does demonstrate empathy on the part of Miss Priddy and lends credence to her credibility with regard to her observations.

RMM and Mr Engleton were together for six years and married in 2011. Soon after, RMM achieved her breakthrough role as an actress in the series ‘Suits’ and moved to Toronto. Mr Engleton was the one who travelled back and forth from California to Toronto to support his wife. He put in the miles as he shuttled to and from RMM with no suggestion she reciprocated. Not withstanding his dedication, the marriage did not last long and they split and divorced in 2013. Mr Engleton commented that the split “came out of the blue” and that RMM posted the engagement and wedding rings back to him to show it was over. Did RMM disengage from Mr Engleton without explanation, just relying on the symbolic act of returning the rings? If so, such haughty and dismissive behaviour would accord with the behaviour of a narcissist.

Miss Priddy explained that once the nuptials had been secured between the two, RMM behaved “like a light switched off”. This is further indicative behaviour demonstrating that once RMM felt her relationship with Mr Engleton was secured through marriage, she had control and therefore need not behave towards him in a favourable way, in other words, the golden period came to an end. Apparently, RMM had commented about Mr Engleton previously

“if anything were to happen to [Mr Engleton] she wouldn’t be able to go on”

Yet, RMM ended the marriage. Of course people’s feelings can change, but there was no suggestion that Mr Engleton did anything to invite such treatment, on the contrary he remained a faithful and devoted husband, but it appeared he had outlived his usefulness and with RMM’s career rising and in the ascendancy he was no longer required and thus jettisoned with familiar callousness and swiftness which is the preserve of the narcissist.

During her time in Toronto, there were suggestions that whilst married she became close to a Michael Del Zolte, whether there is any substance in this is unknown. It was also rumoured she had a fling with the golfer Rory McIlroy but again this is unconfirmed. If those suggestions were true then this would accord with the behaviour of a narcissist who has no concern with regard to infidelity and serving a sense of entitlement. Indeed, if this was the case then with Mr Engleton secured by marriage and ensconced in California, he would be in devaluation as the Intimate Partner Primary Source and it would not be a surprise for Mr Del Zolte and Mr McIlroy to become ensnared also as Intimate Partner Secondary Sources. However, the extent of any veracity with regard to these rumoured extra-marital relationships remains unconfirmed.

It is however confirmed that following the end of her marriage, RMM moved on to Canadian Chef Cory Vitiello and the pair dated through 2014 to 2016. Further comment has arisen that her relationship with Prince Harry arose whilst she was still with Mr Vitiello and she then ended the relationship with him because Prince Harry was in the picture. If accurate, such a shift from one person to another, especially one which would be regarded as a ‘trade-up’ in terms of wealth, status and position would appeal to a narcissist. Of course, people do move from one relationship to another with some overlap and this is not in itself determinative of that person as begin a narcissist, but such behaviour, which is ultimately self-serving and selfish whichever way it is looked at, is not flattering and when added to other indicative factors, then the evidence begins to mount up.

RMM and Prince’s Harry’s relationship has naturally been well-documented and they became engaged after just 18 months of meeting. Some may see that as rather quick, but it is not unduly hasty and certainly many narcissists would outstrip that time period with room to spare.

A number of RMM’s behaviours certainly weigh against her in terms of narcissism –

  • She was a stripper ( a role, as with being an actress that appeals to someone with high narcissistic traits even if it does not make them a narcissist)
  • She stated she was a stripper on her CV, clearly unconcerned about how that would appear – evidencing a sense of entitlement and lack of accountability
  • The reference to her being a stripper was then later removed from her CV as she began to move in more refined circles – facade management
  • Her body language in interviews and engagements with Harry has shown her to stare at him for an overly long time, clasp his hand and place her hand repeatedly on Harry’s back (the Trump power pat) all of which denotes a desire to dominate and signal that she is in charge whilst no doubt using plausible deniability to reject such an accusation by claiming that she is being supportive
  • There have been suggestions that she has not actually graduated from North West University although claiming to do so – if so, this is the grandiosity, telling of lies and stage management that narcissists engage in
  • Mirroring – she wore a blue bracelet identical to Harry’s and has repeatedly worn outfits and also adopted poses mirroring Kate Middleton (the Duchess of Cambridge), Princess Diana and Pippa Middleton. The photographs and footage show this repeated narcissistic trait.
  • Allegations that her wealth is over-stated. She is said to be worth US $ 5 million yet was living in a poor area of Toronto in property apparently paid for by the studio responsible for suits – if this is correct this show grandiosity and facade management
  • Touts herself as a feminist and taking up progressive causes, caring about mental health however was content to wear a £ 56 000 engagement dress (so much for being a humanitarian), has apparently done nothing to assist her own father who has health issues and as for her commitment to progressive causes so far this appears to have been writing a letter aged 11 or thereabouts to a soap company complaining about a sexist add and writing a piece for Elle magazine about her struggle concerning her racial identity. Hardly a litany of fire-brand commitment and therefore evidence the hypocrisy, facade management and fake empathy of the narcissist.
  • She has expensive tastes and likes to show off her connections as evidenced by the list of famous friends and high end products which existed on her Instagram account before it was closed down – again grandiosity
  • Prince Harry has never met her father which seems a very strange step given he is the father of the bride and Prince Harry has no difficulty in travelling around the world. Does RMM want to keep those troublesome facade damaging relatives away from her target perhaps? The typical narcissistic behaviour of compartmentalising their lives and isolating perceived troublemakers.
  • Many of Prince Harry’s childhood friends have not been invited to the wedding but many celebrities have. One doubts this is Prince Harry’s doing but rather the actions of a controlling and calculating mind who does not want reminders of a world she did not occupy and instead prefers to fill it with vacuous status-boosintg celebrities who are only really there to say ‘look at me’ anyway.

The cumulative effect of these behaviours, the treatment of family, the intimate relationship pattern (especially towards her ex-husband) and the observations of a longstanding former friend do cause the conclusion that RMM is a narcissist, to be reached. All of the above, some of which are confirmed and others remain speculative as stated, if all taken to be accurate demonstrate

  • A sense of entitlement
  • A lack of empathy
  • A lack of accountability
  • Black and white thinking
  • Use of inter-personal relationships as devices for self-gain
  • Lying
  • Grandiosity
  • Haughty behaviour
  • A manufactured version of self
  • Facade management
  • A desire for recognition and response (fuel)
  • Switching
  • Compartmentalisation
  • Isolation

All of which support RMM being a narcissist.

This conclusion is also heavily supported by Prince Harry himself. This is a man who lost his mother in tragic circumstances and at a very young age followed his mother’s hearse with the eyes of the world on him. He has faced repeated rumours about his real father not being Prince Charles but James Hewitt. It is clear that these experiences have had a significant impact on him and would suggest he has suffered some form of damage, a trait which is attractive to the narcissist.

Prince Harry no doubt has a significant extrovert streak. He is not academic but is industrious, well-liked and enjoyed something of a reputation as a party prince. However, be under no illusion that those in the upper echelons of society have always enjoyed a good knees-up and engaged in substantial bacchanalian excess – the difference then was the world’s media and social media was nowhere near as brazen and intrusive. Furthermore, those around the royals were far more discrete. Prince Harry is no different to many of his family and ancestors – he has just been seen enjoying himself raucously rather than it be hidden.

Prince Harry is an empathic individual. He has inherited Princess Diana’s caring and empathic traits. He has evidenced this through his career in the army, his establishment of the Invictus Games and charity work such as his trek to the south pole. He admires Kate and William’s settled and stable family life – contrast this to his own childhood – and it is patently clear that this vivacious man is one of empathy who craves the establishment of his own settled life and his various traits are a magnet to the narcissist.

The traits and behaviours of RMM, coupled with her selection of Prince Harry and his own traits confirms that come Saturday 19th May, the Very Suited Narcissist will achieve her childhood ambition and become a royal and so with it the creation of a Very Royal Narcissist.

 

A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 91

 

KM LETTER

Dear R:

When we met, I was at a low point, coming off an online relationship with another damaged human being. We were a “thing” within a month, and we spent all our time together, living what my friends (who didn’t stick around to see THIS trainwreck play out) called, The Rockstar Lifestyle. I lost my job because of you. Then you quit yours…. And it all seemed so rational at the time. You were abused, you told me. You had been mistreated by all the women who came before, as I heard in excruciating detail, for hours at a time. They all treated you so badly. And you were dysfunctional in other ways, too. You claimed “OCD” and “social anxiety” and “panic attacks” when your anxiety overcame you.

I loved you and wanted to “fix” you, so that you could finally love me. I wanted to erase the memory of all the abuse that you’d previously endured and show you what “perfect love” looked like. I tried. Even when what you did and what you said were two separate things.  Even on the occasions when the cognitive dissonance and unhappiness overcame me and I ran away from your silence (inevitably, to return when you protested). My efforts were never good enough to have the results intended, more was always demanded. When I once protested you said two things, one of a few instances of your inadvertent honesty: “I’m not going to change myself to fix you” and “I’m not a very good boyfriend. I will never be able to love you the way you need and want and deserve to be loved.” I should have listened then.

I paid for everything, since you were “sick” and couldn’t work, and you behaved as though you were entitled to everything. You expected me to pay without comment and no plans to repay it – your gym membership, phone, food, and finally, your rent, as well as mine. And you never did anything differently. Two years later, you’re now living in the comparative lap of luxury, and you complain about how much it sucks. Maybe you would be better off going back to White Trash Town and renting a room with a junkie again.

I was broke, and couldn’t sustain two apartments. So I did the completely rational thing: rather than stop paying for you and force you to pay your own way, I gave up my apartment and moved in with you,  far away from my kids, in an apartment that was too expensive. There was no celebration of our further commitment to one another. Instead, you moved your brother in and he stayed on our couch, drinking and smoking, no job, night and day for 6 months. It’s a good thing that I was able to get another job.

All this time, there was a problem between us sexually. You just didn’t want it and I blamed myself for not being attractive enough. We never discussed it. Not our physical preferences, not the frequency, not the lack of connection I felt when we did have sex, whether you’d enjoyed (or not) what I did for you this way.  We had sex if, when, how and for how long YOU wanted it. What I liked or wanted did not concern you. I had so many questions.  I wanted to know why you left me in my bed, in the middle of an orgasm, to smoke in the other room. I wanted to know why you jump up after we’re done, with no pillow time or tenderness. I wanted to know why, when I cry or have nightmares, you can’t hold me and comfort me, but again leave the room. I wanted to know why, when I ask you to hold me for the simple comfort of another human body, you can’t. I wanted to know why you don’t like kissing. I wanted to know why you prefer to have sex from behind, and not looking into my eyes or having me look into yours.  What are you afraid of? Being seen? Having me see what you don’t want me to see?  I don’t expect an answer.

In all this time, you were never able to solve this, or fake it adequately, even with my best efforts.  I loved you, and I wanted so badly for it to be “right”, the way it’s “supposed to be” between us.  When I did bring it up you said, no you SCREAMED, that every time  I talk about “The Problem” it undoes all that you’ve tried to do to solve it – effectively silencing me and forcing me to accept what is. But then, I can’t talk to you about anything that hurts me – and even if I did, you won’t do anything about it because you just don’t – CAN’T – care. Because it’s not about YOU.  And finally, FINALLY, something is said that makes sense: when you look at me, you see only you – and you hate yourself so much that you can only hate me.

I know of my own knowing that it has NOTHING to do with me. I KNOW that I’ve  saved your life over and over, protected you, supported you and made your life and the lives of your children WORLDS BETTER.  I set myself and my needs aside in the face of your excuses and rationalizations about how you’re “different”. I’ve poured out my love for you like water in the desert, broken and remade myself over and over for you, and you don’t even notice. I feel invisible, neglected, taken for granted and quite frankly, used. You say that wasn’t your intention. It is, however, what IS, regardless of how you try to manipulate the facts.

There has been an erosion of your respect for me over time, beginning with forgetting basic courtesies like “please” and “thank you” and escalating to “playfully” punching me in the groin, burping in my face or giving me a closeup view of you sucking your own phlegm, and thinking that that’s “funny”.  You trying to control me with your threats of “bugging out”, leaving,  or suicide. You say you don’t go through my things, but that’s not true – you go through them, take what seems good or useful, helping yourself without asking.

I’ve been abused  in many ways. Being screamed at, thrown into a table, called names, discarded and told to leave at your whim. Lied to, deceived, and allowed to believe what wasn’t so, having answers that you could have given withheld as though they were state secrets. Violence and the threat of violence used as a tool for you to get what you want.

Do you know how hard it is to function emotionally when you’ve been told that “some things are only true in the moment”? In one “moment” you say you love me, that you’re my guardian and protector, in another it’s that you hate me and want me gone. From “I love you forever and want to marry you” to “I’m gonna punch you in the face” and “I’m going to kill you” and “I’ll ruin your life” and “do you want to die tonight?”

In February, in the face of immense fear of what you would do, I told you that I’m ending it. I did this, rather than ghost out of your life, as an expression of my commitment to my own integrity,  so you don’t tell yourself stories about “why”, or pretend it was all me being a “fucking retarded bitch” when people ask you what happened.  You didn’t even ask me much. I took it as you not caring, and possibly being relieved that I’m finally going to be gone from your life.

Ironically, as of the last time we fought, you don’t even think there IS a problem, and if I think there is one, it’s MY problem, not YOURS or even OURS.

 I have been waiting for you to come to me, ask me to stay, change my mind. But you haven’t. And that’s all I need to know, because men go after what they want.  I tried – and failed – to find an apartment that I could afford on my own. My intention to leave was solid. But I drifted back into the haze of promises of a better future that I know won’t come.  I’ve stopped believing. I can’t go through the motions and pretend it’s good enough, because it isn’t. I don’t see what’s in this for me anymore, if I ever did.  Hell, even the sex sucks. I am not obligated to you in any way. I am free to discern and decide what serves me best. And I’m no longer willing to put my needs aside for the privilege of chasing you for crumbs.

You know, I prayed for clarity about what is REALLY happening for months. And it was there, staring me in the face, with me unwilling to see, all along. Maybe you noticed that I pulled back on some of the things I used to do: protesting the lack of communication, asking about your work schedule, and that I don’t nag about the sleeping arrangements any more. All things that should have put up a red flag for you, because that’s what I was waving.

 You can’t love me –  I understand that now.  You just… can’t. And it’s nothing to do with me being unlovable or “hard to love”, it’s entirely you. I thought that if you just opened up to me, I would be able to show you how much you’re loved, but my greatest fear has apparently come true without my realizing it – you opened up and…there’s nothing there.

Finally – I have assassinated all hope that you would change. Your empty promises of things being “better” at some vague later time will no longer carry any weight. I told you once that when I stopped caring, I would burn it to the ground. Yesterday was that day. That sound you hear? It’s the sound of me striking the match.

You see, I spent all of the time you left me alone planning my escape, smiling at you and acting normal for months now. I tried it the honorable way, and failed. I didn’t want to see myself as the kind of person who would ghost out of someone’s life without a word, and I don’t like to lose. But  I decided that it’s not losing if you’re walking out of a burning house, especially if it’s not yours. And I decided that my survival – by any means necessary – was worth being “dishonorable” to someone who had repeatedly dishonored me.  So I put my plans in place, took my things and all the money you had, and left.

I have a private PO box,  I’ve blocked your calls and texts and those of all your family and friends, blocked you on social media and did the best I could to ascertain that you have no way to contact me or find me at work. I’ve deleted all your old messages in every format, separated your phone account, cancelled your gym membership, burned your photos and those of your children. I ran – far enough that it will be a challenge to you without money and a car – to come here, if you even took note of which building I work in.

I imagine that you’re raging. I smile.

Secrets

SECRETS

 

Do you remember when you were at school and your friends all appeared to know something that you did not? They gave each other knowing looks, made sideways references to “this thing” and smiled and giggled. Unsettling wasn’t it? You asked them to tell you, you pleaded and you may even have become upset or angry, threatening your friends with some repercussion if they did not tell you what it was that they knew. Usually it was nothing. Just a device devised to play a game with you, to provoke a reaction, to cause you to react and it worked. Then you were in on the secret and you could join in and play it against the next unsuspecting individual. Nevertheless, you did not like that sensation of not knowing did you? Few people do. How many times when someone has gone missing, have anguished people declared,

“It’s the not knowing which really gets to you.”

The apprehension you experience when you wait to receive your examination results. You know you studied hard during the year, carried out the revision in the right way and you felt the examination went well, but you can never be sure can you, it is the lack of knowing which gnaws away at you until you receive the result.

Waiting for some test results concerning your health causes anxiety and concern. Even if it is bad news, once you have those results you can then take action, make plans and formulate a way forward but whilst you do not know, you are stuck, paralysed and frozen. It is an unpleasant sensation at best and an utterly debilitating one at worst.

You do not like secrets. We thrive on them.

So much of what we are is a secret. We are like a series of chests, compartments and vaults in which various secrets have been placed. Some have been placed there with the intention of never being revealed, either to you or even to ourselves. Others are those secrets about what we really are or what we actually do and we close the lid, slam the door shut and turn the key in the hope that you do not find them out and expose us for what we truly are. We do not want you to find out that the honey-coated façade is just that as you open a dark box and find the full horror of our true behaviour lurking inside. The past behaviours and historic actions are consigned into the depths of archive storage to prevent you from knowing what we really did to our ex-partner, what was said to our brother that has meant we have not spoken in ten years or the catalogue of infidelities that we engaged in. If you were ever allowed admission to those dark corridors you would pass the vaults, chests and caskets into which the secrets of our kind have been placed. Wife-beater, alcoholic, smack head, fraudster, closet homosexual, expenses fiddler, serial cheater, elder abuser, fence, conman, contemptor of court, distant parent, liar, convict, tax fraud, cross-dresser, sexual degenerate and so much more besides. Many secrets, some which you may eventually look upon, so many you may never know about. So many secrets hidden away, pushed into the recesses, concealed and secreted so that prying eyes do not learn the truth of what we say and do.

Yet, our secrecy goes further than that. We delight in letting you know that we have some kind of secret in order to exert control over you. We revel in giving you a glimpse of something but then pulling it from view. We engage in half-comments, low whispers and veiled comments in order to pique your interest but then we relish withholding the full tale. We take pleasure in these insignificant mysteries that cause you to question and probe. After all, we do know how you behaved when you were so much younger and how the sensation of not being able to know troubles you. It troubles you and your kind more than others. Like the older boy at school, we have snatched your lunch money and now hold it above your head, almost in reach as you hop and jump, frustration increasing as you attempt to recover it. You want to get hold of what it is that we know so you can satisfy your own need to know. We recognise this and therefore engage in the playing of games where we suggest, hint, partially reveal and allude to so that your interest is gained. We tease as we make oblique references to something in the expectation that you will bite. We will sit staring into space, cultivating the appearance of depth and intrigue as you observe us and wonder what we are thinking about. You will of course ask and we will give you some cryptic response which as you pondering and probing further. Whatever we told you is nothing to do with what we were actually thinking about. We may have been admiring the view from the window, we might have been wondering how the match would turn out and most likely we were considering which of the growing stable of prospects to message next. Instead we will trot out some comment or line which gives the appearance of us being pre-occupied with some weighty matter, something possibly beyond the wit of you, something which makes us appear mysterious and heavyweight. The intrigue adds to the allure but it also plays to your desire to need. The keeping back of information, the withholding of knowledge, the cloak and dagger routine is all part of the act. The true secrets will never be revealed to you. The secret we allude to is non-existent. It is just a device to control you. It is a means of keeping you bound to us, asking, wondering and probing. The half-answers and titbits are there to confuse, bewilder and cause your anxiety. The mysterious murmurs, the ponderous gaze and the comments to ourselves which you can only partially hear are mere ruses. They are to give us the appearance of depth when it is lacking. The creation of so many apparent secrets is to keep you away from the real secrets by leading you in a different direction and to make us appear deep and of substance. We look to snatch your consideration and scrutiny and make it belong to us instead.

The playing of secrecy continues after the cessation of our formal relationship. Always when you have been discarded and often even when you escape, how many times are your night bedfellows not some other person but the ghosting questions of how, what, why, when and where? You are given no answers as to what has happened and this is when the secrecy takes on the greatest significance as we have entered you into the maze where you try to find a way through it in order to understand how we could have done what we did, what on earth happened to you, why did we do those things, when will we come back and where did it all go wrong? We condition you throughout your dance with us to be intrigued by us, to wonder, to speculate, to pontificate and so forth so that it builds and builds until when we cast you to one side you can do nothing but keep wanting to learn our secrets, to open those doors, to slide back the bolts and open the portals, to raise the lids and lift the covers. This keeps you coming back to us, it keeps you hanging on in the hope that one day there will be a momentous reveal and it will all make sense. You wait in the expectation that all the secrets of this person that you still love will be revealed to you. But it never happens. Not by him or her. The unmasking comes from another place.

It is  no secret that you have the key to the narcissistic universe in your hands now.

Jealous of Your Contentment

 

JEALOUSOF YOURCONTENTMENT.jpg

 

Granting you contentment is part of our design when we seduce you and grant you the golden period. The provision of your contentment at that juncture in our entanglement provides the luscious positive fuel to flow in our direction and all is well. We truly do delight in seeing you content with the illusion that we have woven for you. It is when you and us move into the stages of devaluation and discard that we regard your state of contentment in a wholly different manner,

During devaluation if we witness you appearing content, we are overcome with jealousy. Why should you be allowed to sit there satisfied, happy and relaxed? Why do you not suffer the repeated unease of the desire to gain fuel when those supplies become low? We look across the room at you, your features composed in an expression of peace. The envy rises and we despise the fact that you are sat in pleasant repose, seemingly all at ease with the world. We invariably associate that your composed appearance is achieved in order to annoy and frustrate us. You know don’t you? You know that we have this churning fury inside us which shifts and slides. You know that we have the growing hunger for fuel and how this creates a restlessness in us. You know all of this and yet you sit there, revelling in our discomfort. If you cared you would not be enjoying that book, talking on the ‘phone to a friend or watching your favourite television programme. No, if you loved us properly then you would be ensuring that this restlessness was banished and that our sense of power and might was reinstated. Your content state is being bandied about in front of us, teasing and provoking. You are mocking us because you are achieving something that is denied to us at that time. How dare you behave in this manner? How dare you forget about our needs? This is symptomatic of the selfishness we knew you possessed and now you wave it in our faces suggesting that somehow we are inferior to you. This will not do.

Your contentment at this stage amounts to a provocation and is tantamount to a criticism of us. You have achieved contentment whilst we experience restlessness and you know this don’t you? Oh, we know that you will pretend to be unaware of what you are doing, but we know your game. We are not fooled by these protestations of innocence so when we fling the dinner plate to the floor, shattering the plate and silence, causing you to jump up in fright, you knew it was coming. The plate lies broken and your contentment in one swift move is similarly smashed. You are not allowed to be content unless it is by our say so. We want you on tenterhooks, your nervous eyes looking to us for approval and consent. Exhibit any sign of being relaxed, at ease or content and we will take action to destroy that state in an instant. We will pick a fight, create an argument, call you a name, break something, interrupt you with an insult walk out and slam the door and so many other actions all designed to remove you from your contented position. When we see you like that, you remind us of what we cannot achieve at that time and we hate you for it.

It becomes worse when the relationship has ended. Whether you escaped us or we discarded you, there will come a point when we turn our sights on you again in order to extract that wonderful hoover fuel. It may be weeks or months later but we will have been undertaking observations in order to determine the most effective way of hoovering you. If we see you getting on with your life, radiating happiness and an air of contentment it infuriates us hugely. How dare you seem happy without us? You are meant to be broken and distraught, that is how the aftermath is supposed to be. Admittedly, it usually is, but every so often we may find that one of our victims has seized the power and advanced his or her position, forging through the emotion and formulating their recovery. It may be the case that we have seen you on one of the few good days, the bad days taking place where the world cannot see, but that does not matter to us. Should we witness you looking well, smiling, having lost weight, or looking fitter, dressing elegantly, meeting friends with laughter and smiles it wounds us considerably. You seem to have forgotten us. You are bound to us, forever, have you forgotten that this is the case? You are at our beck and call until the day either of us breathes our last, yet here you are striding across the street, hair glossy and styled, posture confident and uplifted and meeting somebody with a kiss and a broad smile. This was not meant to happen. You exude contentment, a confidence that we thought was shattered and unlikely to be rebuilt for some time. How did this happen? Who has caused this transformation from the sobbing wretch we left without so much as a goodbye to the contented person we now look at from the shadows? It may be a one-off, it may be a glimpse of something that is a work in progress, but such considerations do not matter when we see it. We are wounded by this display. You appear to no longer need us. Where is the stooped figure? The haunted individual with dark-circled eyes and pallid skin? Where is the comfort-eater that we mocked so horribly? Where has the lank-haired, nervous shuffling person we tormented gone to? This was not meant to happen. Ever.

Seeing you so content post escape or post discard is a massive criticism to us. The lesser or mid-range of our kind will most likely slink away, regarding this show of strength (temporary even though it may be) as evidencing somebody with defences high and radar warily sensitive. Any hoover would be doomed to hoover and might even result in further injurious harm. No, the lesser or mid-range will retreat and return to the new prospect that has been acquired and other sources of fuel and make a mental note that a hoover at this juncture is unlikely to meet with success. The Greater of our kind will seethe and glower, dismayed and wounded by this peacock performance. Unseen, we will send baleful glares your way as we formulate a way to pierce this shield of contentment. Schemes will be concocted once again in order to hammer this contentment into nothingness. The Greater may, if sufficiently motivated, spring forward and unless malign actions for the purpose of drawing negative fuel, preferring to adopt such a tactic rather than seek to draw the target back in. It is time to lash out and destroy rather than capture. Our fury is ignited and our calculating minds will ascertain that this can only be a veneer. It is far too soon for you to appear to content again, no matter how much it appears genuine. We want to halt the recovery before it gathers any more momentum and thus the Greater will unleash a savage malign hoover, smearing and hurling insults, dredging up those historic vulnerabilities in order to break the contentment again, just as we did those many months ago during devaluation. The ignited fury drives the Greater forward to shatter, break and destroy and if successful, then he or she knows that further malign assaults can be rolled out to cripple the recovery. Once the recovery has been derailed, the contentment eradicated and the veneer of confidence stripped, then the golden period can be dangled again before the quivering victim.

It never does to see you contented. This is why when we see it during devaluation you will suffer and adverse reaction. Following the cessation of the relationship it wounds us considerably and will generate a certain response dependent on the type of our kind that you were entangled with. The maintenance of contentment is indeed a blow against us.

Picture This

 

 

PICTURE THIS
We all know that a picture paints a thousand words but with my kind and me, you are far more likely to receive a novel. If you know what to look for, my use of pictures is a helpful indicator for you. Initially, I will take hundreds of pictures of you as I shower you with compliments. I will also ensure there are thousands of pictures of us, wearing beaming smiles, radiating out our long-standing love (of three days so far). These pictures will be taken in a sun-drenched location, on a ski-slope, outside the theatre, at restaurants, at the game and so on and so forth. These markers of happiness and location will be plastered all over my phone and social media as part of my Relationship Bulletin (see post) and also a general declaration to the world. Look at us together, see how happy and content we are. This is going to last forever.

Wait a number of months and then ask to see the photos of my phone. I will be evasive and no doubt pick a fight and engage in one of my numerous manipulative techniques to deflect you from pursuing this line of enquiry. The reason? You are no longer clogging up my photo album, in fact I will have stored there various pictures of my new target. None will have been taken with her consent. No, these photos might be surreptitious ones taken at work or most likely copied from her Twitter feed and Facebook account. You might think in the evening that I am sat poring over our photos. Not a chance. I am studying my next source of fuel.

You will also notice a reluctance for me to pose in photographs with you. I will come up with all manner of excuses and invariably suggest we have plenty of pictures we do not need any more.

“Honestly, you take so many selfies, anyone would think you were a narcissist,” I will declare in a delicious moment of irony. I will be refusing to appear in a picture with you and slowly removing all those pictures of us and you from social media accounts. I will not do it in once fell swoop ; that is too obvious. Instead, I do it little by little, imagining I am erasing a little bit of you each time. My version of a death by a thousand cuts.

If you do manage to get a picture of me unawares there will not be the brilliant smile I always used to flash, instead it will be a scowl. If I submit to a posed photograph the smile will be thin and the eyes will be cold and dark, just like how my heart feels for you.

Point Askew

 

POINTASKEW

In a discussion with Dr E we were engaged in one of the sessions where he invites me to consider the situation from the point of view of those that I interact with. On this particular occasion we were discussing situations where a victim wishes to cease interacting with me and he wanted to know if I could understand why they might form that view. Since I am a clever chap I am able to work out how people might feel about being on the receiving end of my behaviour. I understand that anxiety and hyper vigilance, misery and upset follow the way I treat people. As you know though I do not care. People make the mistake that I am dismissive of the way people feel. It is not that. I can see that they are upset. I can see that they are angry. I know all of that. What people often fail to realise is that my needs have to come first. I need my fuel. If that means you standing there sobbing at me then that has to happen so I get my fuel. If there was a different way of getting that fuel then I would use that method. If that alternative method did not leave you upset then I would take it, but there is no other way, not when I grow tired of you. I need the fuel and that means you have to suffer as you supply that to me.

I do understand how you feel because I have seen the reactions over and over again. I know what anger looks like, I know what misery is and I have seen despair so often. I can understand your point of view when you stand arguing with me, but I will not concede to it. I want you to keep arguing as that gives me fuel. I will deploy a circular argument to keep the drama going. I want you to explode through frustration and shower me with your attention as you do so. I hear everything you say to me (although I will wind you up by saying I cannot hear you, so you speak louder and become exasperated). People suspect that I cannot appreciate what your view is. I do but it must always be subservient to my desire for fuel. Of course, by telling you this I can extract even more fuel from you because now you know that I understand your views but I wont pay any heed to them and that will infuriate you all the more.

Read and understand all about narcissists from the best source possible. A narcissist himself.

Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: