You Make Me Sick

We are strong, powerful and impervious to illness or injury. We are a bastion of invulnerability, a veritable shining example of radiant health and vitality. Our superiority means we stand head and shoulders above everyone else and the weakness that comes with ill health and infirmity is not something that affects us. Except when we decide it must. That is when we play the sickness card. There are three instances, in the main, when we do this.

The first is when we do actually suffer from some illness or an injury. It may just be a fractured eyelash but to us we have been blinded with a red hot poker. The pain, good Lord the pain, it is too great and intense. It wracks us and has us twisted up in agony. Come on empath, do something. Do something now. Soothe our fevered brows, splint our broken limbs and bind our wounds. You must drop anything and everything. Forget being at work today, you must call in and excuse yourself no matter how inconvenient, for you are required to don a nurse’s outfit and do your best Florence Nightingale impression for us. This slight snuffle is pneumonia you know and to top it all it is your fault. You insisted on the window of the bedroom being left open, now see what you have done. I may not last the week. You would like that wouldn’t you, you ungrateful bitch after everything that I have done for you. You did it on purpose. You wanted me to be ill so you could see me suffer. That is how nasty and selfish you are. Is it any wonder I have been off with other women when this is how I am treated by somebody who is supposed to love me? Yes the smallest spot, minor ache and slight cough are all that is needed to enable us to declare that we are on our death beds. It is good for several uses. First of all, we will use it to avoid doing things such as household chores or attending an event that you wanted to go to. Secondly, it means you must give us plenty of attention by looking after us. Those soothing words and hot water bottles brought to our bedside all provide us with fuel. Thirdly, we are able to provoke you by being demanding and castigating you for not living up to expectations. You didn’t bring that hot lemon drink soon enough or those are the wrong pills. We will compare you to others, ” My mother would do a better job of looking after me than you.” All of which is designed to cause a reaction from you.

The second occasion on which we will play the sickness card is when you are ill or injured. We are not here to look after you. Good Lord, not at all. Why should we? That is not our role. We are too busy looking for fuel and we do not have the time or energy to spend engaged in nursing you. Not only of course are we devoid of the concept of feeling that we should care and that we should feel sorry and compassionate for someone who is unwell, we do not regard it as a task that is worthy of someone as brilliant as us. If you moan enough so that we are compelled to call out a doctor we will pronounce our own diagnosis in order to align ourselves with the brilliance of the medic. When he concludes what ailment it is you are suffering from we will declare,

“Yes, I said to her that that was what was wrong with her, but she won’t listen to me doctor, she insisted on getting you out. I am sorry she has wasted your time.”

We get to denigrate you and upset you whilst showing off how clever we are because we knew what was wrong with you (even though we did not) and the doctor accords with us. We may as well steal a segment of the doctor’s brilliance for our construct whilst he is here mightn’t we?

We will then invite the doctor to examine our shoulder or leg as we go to great lengths explaining how much pain we are in. This keeps the spotlight firmly on us and has you annoyed that we have hijacked your consultation. We will look to declare we are far worse off than you. You have a cold, well we have flu. We will use this as an opportunity to accuse you of attention seeking (nice bit of projection there) as we point out how selfish you are for being ill when we are. We have no interest in tending to you and we need to make the situation all about us. Accordingly, we will fake an illness or an injury in order to trump yours.

The third reason as to why we will play the sickness card is when we are low on fuel and low on energy. There may be any number of reasons why this state of affairs has arisen. You may be getting wise to some of our manipulative behaviour and therefore you are not reacting as often so that the level and quality of fuel that you provide is reduced. We may also have a natural dip in our energy levels or feel some degree of vulnerability which means that our resources are being stretched rather thin. This makes it difficult for us to seek out additional sources of fuel. This diminution in fuel reduces our power and this risks the craven creature that lurks within trying to escape and making itself heard. When this happens, the creature’s whisperings remind us of our weakened selves. We are not ill. We are not injured. What we are however is feeling weakened, as if we are ill or injured. Accordingly, we play the sickness card in order to obtain an emergency injection of fuel from you or whoever else might be to hand. As an empathic individual you are programmed to respond to this and you cannot resist the opportunity to exhibit your caring nature in order to help us out and nurse us. The attention you lavish on us provides us with fuel and we begin to feel more powerful again. The creature’s catcalls fade as he is subsumed within the prison of our constructed edifice once again and our supremacy returns. Our weakness lifts thanks to this provision of fuel from you and this has been instigated by us playing the sickness card. We will do this to garner sympathy from you, from family and friends and also from health professionals. Our favourite ailments of course are of the invisible variety. Depression, a stomach pain or a bad back. We are brilliant actors and ham up our suffering. The portrayal of our poor sick self would please Ferris Bueller. As with most things it is just another fabrication designed to manipulate you and provide us with fuel but you must never dare question us. We of course have researched the symptoms thoroughly and our Munchausen Syndrome is most prevalent. You are duty bound to help us rise from our sick bed or you are a bad person and we will cut you out of our will in the event that this terrible affliction sends us to the reaper. You will be sick to death of our illnesses and injuries but you will be duty bound to attend to them.

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11 thoughts on “You Make Me Sick”

  1. Wow is this one right on!! From a slight headache you would of thought his head was exploding! He couldn’t move! Supposedly hurt his back that he could barely walk. It was just a muscle after I stretched him and gave him a deep massage, cracked his back, filled the tub with hot water added lavender scented Epsom salt and bathed him!! It was a miracle he had absolutely no pain left at all!! I know this sounds awful! I really did enjoy taking care of him though HG. You are my favorite writer! I wish I would of had the chance to read something else that you have written besides Information on narsacissts. Have a wonderful Easter HG.btw stayed no contact right through his birthday!! Thank you!! Xo

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    1. Me too as it was vacations I had to go all over s place I had no idea about to find pain killers or whatsoever… And the massage… Now I see the positive side of it. I learned how to give massages!!! From all the pains he got in arms, neck,lower back, upper back… Now that I think about how many hours I spent massaging my ex through so many years.. I would get practical credits .., somewhen I noticed he was inventing because I learned how to identify when the muscle was “entspannt” .. How he used to say… Sigh!!

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  2. How can you be a “superior” human being, when the thought of being alone, having to spend time with your “true self” is a fate worse than death to you? The things you say about yourself, the image you try (desperately) to project, the carnage you revel in leaving, and the idealization, devalue, and discard phases are just you reliving the hell you were subjected to as a child. Over and over. It’s your attempt at ridding your inner voice of the pain, humiliation and shame that lies at your core. The very same core you cannot fathom being alone with for any extended period of time.

    If that’s what it feels like to be “superior”, well then give me my quiet alone time, my peace of mind, and my empathic, gullible , “inferior” contentment. It must really suck to have to be a slave to that abused child screaming for vengeance. And taking it out on any woman who’ll give you the time of day, the benefit of the doubt, and the strength to face that demon head on (since you can’t). These ladies represent the anger and disgust your mother projected unto your unsuspecting ass. Your female targets are paying for the sins of the mother. But it’ll never change the fact that your mom didn’t really love you.

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    1. Hi Camaro
      By the way its a cool car. My uncle had one and used to drive me around as a kid .
      Have you read all of HG’s books? That you assure his mom did not love him?…

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    2. If your personal research on narcissism has lead you to the conclusion that all narcissists have mothers that did not love them, then why not write about that in your blog? Rather than in someone else’s blog?

      Personally I have many clients that are Empaths that have adult children that are narcissists…because of the father.

      These mothers all loved their children very much. If anything, they overcompensated for the fact that their children had a psychopath for a father.

      It is not fair to accuse the mothers of narcissist children, unless you have met them and you are sure they were the abusive parent.

      I would not make any assumptions about HG’s mother, unless I knew her in person.

      It is a terrible thing when the children of an empath turn on them, due to the lies told About them by the father…and sometimes his parents too…the in laws.

      Narcissists are adults making their own free choices. Sometimes they had an abusive motber, and sometimes they did not.

      Your blog looks rather empty.
      Annie

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  3. N1 and N2 played sick specially during vacations, when I was very HIGH in energies. N1 would even attract it with his mind that he got really sick at the end of the vacations. Every vacation!!! Seriously.
    N2 eternal couch potatoe. Lost case. What a horror.
    This has not changed with their new partners. They continue to be sick. In fact N2 is practically chronically sick. After 10 years still the same migrane, back ache, knee ache, stomach ache😱😱😱😱😱
    N3 never gets sick because when he gets sick he pretends not to be sick.
    I can give faith there are some N who hate to be sick.
    I enjoyed reading this posing again 😃😃 but it brings me energy draining memories.
    Anyway I am off to a very active and sunny day ☀️☀️.
    Hope you also have a nice day HG 💋

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  4. A running theme of the need to be centre of someone’s attention, sickness comes in many forms. It isn’t just the narcs, who are sick. Yes, this is how it was, scary and accurate. ACHOO

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  5. Funny. My narc husband always has these stomach pains (most of the time. Sometimes he’s dizzy, bloated or super tired, has a sprained knee or whatever). He ‘taught me’ how to massage his back, using my elbow, to ‘relieve the pain’. I know it is consistent with all the info there is to be found on this type of stomach pain, but just like my Mom used to exploit her scoliosis only when she didn’t feel up to something and completely forgot about it when she was having fun, my husband always falls ill at the most convenient times. Every time someone needs to go to the shop, do the dishes or change the kitty-litter, there’s an excuse. When it’s not this illness card, it’s another pity card. Like ‘I need to poop real bad and that takes time, so can you quickly …’. Quite often he has these abcesses which he just undergoes but researches/does nothing about; after surgery he always has an open wound for several weeks, but is otherwise functional. As in, no problem going to town and going out, no problem playing a hardcore sweaty basketball match and no problem doing grease monkey work in his dads garage occasionally. I asked him if those conditions weren’t too straining and unhygienic for his wound, but he said it was fine. However, he won’t lift a finger in our house because of that same wound, ‘i don’t want to get an infection’. I would not dare confronting him with this, because every time I did confront him with any kind of ugly truth about him, he waged all out war on me. I feel my body and mind dying and no way out. Damn him and the turd he slipped in on.

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