Walking in My Shoes
I always wake before you. This allows me to slip into the en suite and lock the door and deal with the horror of confronting another day without you seeing me endure this daily ritual. Already I can feel the hunger rising as I stare at my reflection. Is this what I have become? The bleary-eyed, stubbled, exhausted creature that gazes unwaveringly back at me. No, I do not recognise that thing. How old it looks. The lips are thin, the hair thinning and clumped. Its shoulders rounded and slumped in resignation. I feel refreshed from a solid night’s sleep yet whatever is looking back at me does not accord with that feeling. The fear crawls across my skin and I rub at myself trying to dislodge that cold grip but it never works. The inner dread rises as I contemplate another day at the grindstone trying to piece together what I am, that long arduous task which never gets easier. In point of fact, the task becomes more difficult with each passing month as my advancing age screams at me about my mortality. How that banshee tortures me as she howls in my ears about my waning powers. I feel the tears welling as every injustice I have ever suffered is heaped on my shoulders by an uncaring and oblivious world. Does it not see my pain or does it just not care?
My mobile phone is clutched in my hand. I rarely let it leave my side and I place it on the counter besides the sink and then grip the counter as I continue to look at my reflection. My knuckles whiten as I fight the urge to scream at how empty I feel, how bereft I am and how this is so damn unfair. I try to wrench my gaze away but I cannot. I am entranced by what I see. I do not recognise this person. Where has that shock of white come from in the hair above the left temple? That is not me. Its skin looks dry as if it has been subjected to the dehydrating suction of some foul shade that visited in the night. The horror continues to escalate and it is only the chime of my ‘phone which breaks this terrible appreciation of the thing in the mirror.
Grateful for this interruption I shift my eyes to the ‘phone and see that a message has arrived from one of my coterie of admirers, Samantha. The pilot light inside of me flares into life and there is the slightest surge as the fuel begins to flow. I should wait until I have showered but the hunger is too great already and it must be addressed. I open the text message and like a starving man being given his first meal after fasting I devour the words of admiration.
“Good morning handsome, I missed you last night, I will call you when you are at work xxx”
The flame increases in size and strength as I close the message and smile .I turn on the shower letting the stream of water heat up as I flick to the texts that Samantha sent last night whilst I sat on the settee preoccupied with my activity of flitting between her texts and a conversation I was engaging in with a new prospect on facebook. I re-read a handful of the texts from Samantha with their declarations of admiration for me and I feel my strength returning. I put the phone down and step into the shower and relish the hot embrace of the jets of water. The fear has shrunk away and the dread sensation has been pushed back down. I liberally apply the shower gel, enjoying the sophisticated scent as I use a different product on my face, scrubbing away the dead cells and then another to cleanse and wash. I turn the taps and the water stops. I reach for a thick towel and pat my face dry feeling rejuvenated. As I stood beneath the purifying water my keen mind raced whilst I formed my machinations for the day. Always plotting and always scheming. The prospective fuel that will be garnered from the new sources that I am pursuing coupled with the dose of triangulation I will involve you in is causing me to feel excited and powerful. I pick up a bath sheet and admire the toned nature of my body as I dry myself and embark on the next stage of my preparation for the day by shaving and brushing my teeth.
A little while later my phone has chimed again and this time it is a colleague wanting to arrange lunch as he wants my advice since I am an expert on a particular topic he has to present on. The flame inside rises higher now and this spurs on my delinquent mind to consider additional ways to garner that oh so precious fuel during the day. The hunt for fuel is unending. The craven hunger that rumbles inside of me cries out for it and it is my sole preoccupation. The beast inside must be fed. Yet, now I am feeling strong. I haven’t applied my after shave and already two admirers have seen fit to worship at my altar and the games have not even yet to be played. But they will. I reach for the fragrance and splash it into my cupped hands and apply it to my neck as I look to the mirror. The handsome me has returned. The piercing blue eyes shine, the tousled, shiny locks of hair await the application of some wax to style them, the unblemished skin and close shave accentuate my chiselled good looks. I flash that winning smile as another surge of power flows through me. God I look good.
I return to the bedroom, ‘phone in hand and find you have now risen and I can hear the sounds of movement in the kitchen downstairs as you prepare breakfast as you always do. You will shortly bring me a mug of fresh coffee but I think I will complain that it is not hot enough and criticise you, just to see if I can provoke a reaction from you. It should not be too hard, I know precisely what to say. I notice the bed has not been made and rather than attend to it and help you, when you pass me my coffee with a ‘Good morning’ and a smile, I will cock my head towards the dishevelled heap and tut. Ah, yes, the master of games knows his stuff. I dress as another text arrives from another friend who wants to organise a golf game and asks for help with his swing, praising my technique. He is after more than assistance with his golf since he wants me to place work with him. He will have to provide me with more fuel yet to even be considered and of course, I will send the work elsewhere since there is someone who will give me something I want in return in a sweeter form and in larger amounts than my golfing chum. Still, the disappointment on his face will no doubt provide me with a hit too.
I can hear you coming up the stairs and I decide I will take a look in the full length mirror since I am fully attired to admire how elegant I look. I dress in a manner which says to anyone who meets me that the first move is mine. I stand and give a contented nod at my statuesque reflection. I look fantastic. I start to smile and then a bolt of anguish shoots through me as the craven creature that first lurked in the bathroom mirror appears. It is only for the briefest of instances but it causes me to exhale. My expensively-dressed self returns and the relief washes over me in an amazing way. The creature has gone again. He does that though. He likes to make fleeting appearances throughout my day to remind me that I must keep finding fuel. My quest for the potent fuel must be at the forefront of my mind at all times. As if on cue, you enter the bedroom, a veritable reservoir of fuel. You greet me as I cock my head to the unmade bed and tut. I feel the rush of power as your smile evaporates and you look crestfallen. The games have begun and my day is off to a great start. I only hope that creature stays away from me.
19 thoughts on “Walking in My Shoes”
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I see this has been posted a while ago but it made me wonder… I suspect this is autobiographical, no? And if that’s so: Up until now, I had understood that you and the Greaters don’t feel the presence of the creature that often/strongly but this sounds quite different. Also, you talk about fear and the sensation of tears yet you usually say you don’t cry nor experience fear because of your psychopathy. It also surprises me that the perception of self changes so quickly with low fuel levels, even in the Ultra. I thought narcissists have an excellent conceit of themselves. I’m definitely looking forward to the book about the creature and the chasm!
Reblogged this on NarcMagNet69x96.
This breaks my heart….
Horrible for those seemingly closest to you in absolutely everyway too. Cannot help you, as they wish to. Cannot be close to you, or please you, or shelter you or themselves from the beast, as much as they long to. ❤
I think they blame those closest to them who try to support them as contributors to their beast.
Definitely Jana, as all our help is seen as criticisms or taken as deliberate slights against them. Nothing we do to “help” is in their best interest 😕
Don’t your bones just rattle when you’re up against your match. I am your crptonite.
Aren’t you bored with your creature?
And your admirers?
Simply boring.
But I enjoy how you relish in your thoughts of fuel.
It’s cute.
Keep writing.
Thank you Fierceness.
This is an amazing post as always.
We are just the oppossite in this sense. My fuel is coffee, meditation, and silence in the morning at least the first 30 min after I wake up.
None of my ex N have run to their phones in the morning… I suppose here each N Is different in fueling their mornings.
HG, you write so beautifully….I have never seen you…..but I just can’t imagine you looking anything less than debonair, disguinished, and handsome 24/7 on the outside❤️….
Thank you T, I concur!
I have the Nik Kershaw song in my head now 😊 that was great reply Alexis, the ending was brilliant xx I so agree, I have self esteem issues at times, but to look in the mirror and see your self in such a harmful psychological way each day, is unimaginable to me. Thank goodness for you HG. There will always be fuel to make it go away.
Janaa, you can really use this awful experience with an N as a catalyst to fully heal and gain a full sense of self.
I read everything I could about Ns and healing and I’ve never felt better in my life, fully healed all those core childhood wounds and more. Xx
Thank you Alexis xx I will continue to find Information and seek support In as many places as I can. I will find the answers I seek and require to heal from this, one day. It is getting to be too much, as he is everywhere and nowhere, but most especially he is here. Haunting and taunting me. Wanting me it to go away. But, I need to let him go.
Letting him go is the best thing you can do ever! HGs advice is spot on in each of his books. NC all the way, I don’t know what your exact circumstances are but, NC is the first start in the healing process. We feel like they are the only ones with the power to take be pain away, they could stop our hurting if they wanted to. But they don’t want to, so we need to be rid of them and find that power from within ourself, don’t ever let anyone have a hold over you like that. Depend on you and only you. Big cyber hug xx
Thanks for sharing HG. That must have been tough for you.
It makes me feel really grateful that I don’t walk in your shoes and don’t need praise and admiration. Of course, I like it – who wouldn’t ? But I don’t depend on it and I have no fear of growing old as I will just change the things I enjoy doing.
‘Wouldn’t it be good to be in your shoes, the grass is always greener over there’. Really makes you think.
I’m going to keep my shoes and walk on my own grass. Oh and with a big sign which says, ‘keep off my grass’ !
Another well written and incredibly enlightening post HG. That so explains why the N I was involved with referred to the bathroom mirror as “the place where the magic happens”. I thought it was endearing how fricking cocky he was. But I always saw that cockiness as a coverup for insecurity.
Mine never treated me badly in terms of the things I did for him…he was gracious and polite and generous with the thank yous. I doted on him, loved cooking meals for him and bringing his coffee, rubbing his shoulders…but he was so appreciative. He also knew my Narc ex husband had been uber critical of my every move…as you describe…and he saw that I left that marriage and had vowed never to tolerate an abuser again.
Of course, my N found covert and clever ways to be abusive…the biggest one being that he was a fraud with horrible intentions. But overall, in spite of red flags, his day to day interactions with me were loving and sweet…as my fuel flowed freely.
I think once he called me when we werent together one night and sounded somewhat lost , low in fuel perhaps, that the craven creature was looming. He sometimes spoke of a feeling gnawing in his chest and he seemed particularly vulnerable. I don’t feel he was lying. At such times, I felt so close to him for sharing his vulnerability and I fell more in love wanting to protect and nurture this broken, frightened part of him.
I am sad it was one sided.
My second narc was much the same Bethany. It is sad that it is one sided, they do not want our healing or fixing or nurturing. As much as we must give it. Some wounds are cemented on the soul and no amount of love shall change that. But, yes, we must always try and give love as we can.
So you and your partner live together then, but sleep,in separate rooms? Do you blame her for how the beast presents itself to you and as you In the mirror each morning, is she or another source of fuel the reason for your age to show? Is the full length mirror in your bathroom or spare room, that you admire yourself in each morning, when the beast has fled your sight? I am just imagining how you travail through your home as your day begins.
Your phone is always with you and on, so you always know when a message comes in, do you look at each message or only the ones you deem worthy to provide you sufficient fuel.? The ones that placate to your ego and such? A work colleague would rate low, I would assume?
If those message from your appliances never came through before you left the house each day, would You then rely soley on the negative fuel you instigate from shaming your partner ?
This is a fascinating ritual to endure each morning, very methodical and predictable, to maintain your illusion to go get fuel. It sounds mentally exhausting….I wake up so refreshed and content , I couldn’t imagine to suffer this each day. I truly feel for you at such moments of self loathing.