The Crying Game – Part Two
Having ascertained that the commission of tears arising from physical and/or emotional hurt resulted in a sympathetic reaction from certain people, I committed this to memory. I have rarely encountered much physical pain as an adult, enjoying excellent health and ensuring that I always get my retaliation in first so my enemies are the ones who experience physical pain rather than me. The early conditioning that I have been subjected to, as I now understand, appears to have resulted in me being impervious to many emotional injuries that others suffer from. Even the horrendous sensations which arise from my wounding as a consequence of criticism does not cause the tears to fall. Instead, I must focus on repairing the wound through retreat or the instigation of fury in order to gather fuel. The attention this requires means that I do not suffer the immediate reaction of becoming upset. I must feign upset in order to attract the required sympathy and in doing so I use that issued sympathy in order to bring about the control I require over the subject.
My tuition in the art and use of crying later embraced a different catalyst and one which has served to drive me ever onwards and upwards. I have many gifts and of those the one that was cherished most by my father was my academic ability. As I have mentioned beforehand, he was a very intelligent man, well-read and with an interest in the world at large, something which be bestowed on all his offspring. This served him well in both his careers of commerce and then academia. His was the steady hand at the tiller of our academic progress and he sought to steer a path through the choppy waters of my mother’s ambitions for us, our own desires and what he felt would serve us best. The three, as might you expect, were not always compatible.
I excelled at school which naturally resulted in my progression to sixth form college and I was always destined for university. Naturally it was to the most prestigious that I was directed towards and I achieved admission whereupon in such a fertile environment I began to flex my tendrils as I embraced my dark art, but that is a tale for another time. Alongside this I flourished at my chosen discipline and eventually I graduated with a double first. It was this achievement which Dr E honed in on in one of our discussions.
“So a double first, quite the achievement,” he remarked. I nodded. He was not wrong.
“What did your parents think about it?” he asked.
“My friends once they had their results went racing away to telephone their parents to let them know the outcome. I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It had already been arranged that I was meeting my parents for dinner that evening and I would tell them my degree result once we ordered.”
“What did you think of that arrangement? Weren’t you keen to tell your parents sooner of your success?”
“I suppose so but I knew there was little point. Even if I had tried to telephone them, nobody would have answered. My mother would have deliberately absented the house so I could not reach them so as to avoid spoiling the anticipation at dinner.”
“So this arrangement was at your mother’s behest?”
“Of course. Who else? If I achieved the expected outcome the evening would pass pleasantly, if I did not, I would be subjected to a lengthy cross-examination unable to avoid it by putting the telephone down.”
“I see. It was fortuitous then that you achieved such an excellent result.”
“Fortune had nothing to do with it. This dinner was placed in the diary as soon as my mother knew when the examination results would be posted. It was a further incentive for me to achieve what was expected of me.”
Dr E nodded and made a note.
“How did the meal progress then? How did they react to news of your achievement?”
“Once our orders had been placed and the waiter walked away, my mother turned to me and asked ‘Well?’ I responded with, ‘I obtained a double first’ and she answered by saying, ‘As expected. I will make the call,’ and she left the table to telephone the other family members to let them know, probably her brother first of all out of them all.”
“No mention of well done or congratulations?” asked Dr E.
I shook my head.
“And your father?” he asked.
“My father waited until my mother was out of earshot and he reached across and placed his hand on my arm and said, “Well done HG, very well done, that is a fantastic outcome. I know just how hard you have had to work for that result. It is a magnificent result, truly outstanding. I am so very proud of you son, very proud indeed,” and then as he said the word proud his voice cracked and I looked up into his eyes and I could see that he was crying. I had never seen my father cry before. Ever. I had seen him concerned, downcast, worried and so much more, but never the tears. His face was fixed with a huge smile and he tried to speak again but he was overcome with pride. Pride for me. Just me. I had not seen anything like it.”
“How did you feel about him showing such pride for you?”
“I was taken aback but then I felt this surge through me and it felt amazing. It was visceral and ever so powerful as I continued to look at him, the tears filling his eyes and he kept nodding. His hand patted my arm, I can still picture it now. He wasn’t able to speak but the look on his face and that nodding told me that somehow he felt that the job was done, the mission had been accomplished and he was proud of me for doing so. I have never forgotten that moment.”
“Why?” asked Dr E.
“Because the way I felt when I saw my father cry tears of pride at my achievement made me want to see that again. The sense of power that he imbued in me, his praise, his pride, his adoration of my achievement was so edifying that he made me strive even harder. Oh, my mother thinks she is the driving force behind my success and it would be wrong to say she has not been. She has been a huge influence but from that point onwards, my postgraduate achievement, my securing employment and advancement through the hierarchy to where I am now and also in terms of what the future may bring has been driven by my father. I wanted to feel that power again and for that to happen I wanted to see those tears of pride again. So I worked damn hard. I never knew that pride would make someone cry. I never knew that someone’s proud tears would make me feel so powerful.”
“I see. Did you see those tears of pride again from your father?”
I felt the first flicker of the ignition of my fury at this question.
“No. Once again something special to me was taken from me.”
28 thoughts on “The Crying Game – Part Two”
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I don’t understand what was taken away? He gave you something so wonderful that day. Nothing can take that away?
So anything you achieved after that your father had no reaction?
Maybe he was so overcome becuase it hit him that you did it! You conquered the hard work and hell for all of those years .. I’m sure he was always very proud of you, that was just such an extremely pivotal moment.
I’m sorry that they didn’t give you more. I really understand. It’s evident that your Dad really loved you the best way he knew how.
Hi HG,
Your Father seemed like a wonderful man-very warm and empathetic. You write so vividly and with such detail. What is ” a double first”-
Two majors? Thank you for sharing such a touching memory!
It is first class honours in both components of an undergraduate degree.
You’re a smart cookie!!
Hi HG, admittedly, I don’t know very much about your family of origin, but suspect that being the eldest child of MatriNarc put you at greater risk if your father did not have his wits about him in your vulnerable years. Perhaps by the time he understood how to protect his children (or realized that they needed to be insulated from MN), the damage was already done to you and no effort on his part could repair it. The concern and sadness that you sometimes saw in his face may have been a reflection of the guilt he carried in his heart.
He may have been very intelligent, but as you well know, many intelligent people fall prey to narc machinations. If MN orchestrated their union under turbulent circumstances and you were born shortly after, even a good and intelligent man could have been thrown off balance.
I have often wondered how some of the most delightful people get involved with someone so wretched. Your writtings have helped me understand how that can happen.
I don’t know if what I’ve written about your father actually applies to your situation, but hopefully it is food for thought.
Your stories are so well told and vivid, it truly incredible. Reading things like this make me grateful that I didn’t have children with my ex. Your father seemed like a great man. Do you think he was aware of the extreme levels of abuse she subjected you to?
Thank you. I am trying to work that Natalie.
I’ve read this article the few times you have posted it. This time the part where you wrote about your dad that you “had seen him concerned, downcast, worried and so much more, but never the tears.”
In addition to feeling tremendous pride for you, I almost think he felt this would be your ticket to freedom to secure a happy life for yourself finally with overwhelming relief. Relief for you in that moment to have achieved success and avoid MatriNarc’s wrath. Clearly with the way she bustled to make her precious phone call, had that not been the outcome, I wonder if anyone would have the stomach to eat their dinners. But also relief, knowing many of the abuses you endured and maybe thinking this would be the turning point for you to be able to escape that. I think it was a culmination of many feelings but all with the desire for you to have a good path that could be away from your Mother and you would be self-sufficient.
Your dad sounds like a good soul and I hope that wherever he is he has peace.
I have to keep looking up these British terms like double first and fortnight…yes fortnight… (have only been there once on a short business trip. Guess I’ll have to watch more BBC besides The Office).
Ha ha, yes you must.
Oh, and my mother has forced me to watch a British show called Keeping Up Appearances that features an interesting woman named Hyacinth Bucket…she loves it….
It’s Bu-kaay !!
He was a good man..😢
Was his death the reason you see something special taken from you?
Unless he was a blind man and had absolutely no knowledge to the many things you endured, to which I suspect there was a reason, not that it makes things right. What one may do in the face of certain choices another will do differently.
He was proud of you, he loved you. What you felt I would call love to. Only it wasn’t recognized as such, it makes you feel amazing and powerful.
No it wasn’t, Twilight.
I am sorry for whatever it is that was a loss to you. Loss is hard in whatever form it maybe in
Thank you.
HG..this is one of the most sad stories I have read on this blog. I am very sorry that was taken from you.. Could it have been that it was that moment you ” shutdown ” the feelings of love? But what you actually felt was love? How can you be sure it was not love?
I know I am always questioning you , challenging your perspective,reversing your fuel matrix,proposing different paths and so on and I thank you for your patience in coping with it!
The way you write on many of your articles here reveals a true self in you that is good..not a mirroring of anything. I know you have a ” dark side” that you have been attacked for on this blog many times . But still I can “sense” your “light “side very strongly. A ” true” light side.
I want to thank you for all the help you have provided me through this blog,our e-mail and audio consultations and for the time and energy you have put in reading ,analysing and answering my questions.
I really hope that this blog brings to you as well as it has brought to me ( and many others) many positive collateral effects !!!
Thank you for your kind words Superxena, I appreciate you doing so and I have no issue with you raising questions. I do not regard that exchange with my father as the moment I “shut down” as you describe it. That shutdown, although I could not point to a precise moment, must have happened many years earlier.
Your welcome HG!! I just wanted you to know how much you are helping me!
So I have some questions:
If you once shutdown those feelings…that would mean then:
1. You are capable of experience feelings of love but they are ” latent” within you now? Is there any way to “wake ” them up?
2. Do you think that the moment you shutdown those feelings as a strategy for enduring the pain..was when your “need” for negative fuel began?
3. As far as I have understood..the upper school /The Greaters are aware and can control the level / intensity of devalues for getting the negative fuel from their IPPS? Or is it something that they just can’t help when they are “starving” of fuel…they just push as much as they need regardless of the risk of the empath escaping ? In this situation is their need of negative fuel as compared to us ( empaths) the need for food to survive?
I hope I have formulated my questions clearly…difficult to express all my thoughts in English righ now…
Thank you
You are welcome Superxena.
1. I do not know.
2. Possibly.
3. We can control it but if there was a fuel crisis then the pressing need would override the control.
Thank you for your answer HG.
Pleasure.
Emotions are there so we can connect.
Without connections to one another we are alone.
If you can connect then you feel safe.
It seems that you, or your kind, don’t use emotions to connect and to experience a wider awareness of the self, rather you simply use emotions to feed your need of the moment.
It is clear now the way you objectify people and feelings.
So much you are missing. I can’t even put it into words.
HG!!This is a very moving story… The way you talk about your father I call it ” LOVE”… You might define it as ” fuel”… But it is love..
HG, How was it taken from you? Can you tell me, please?
I never saw him cry with pride for me again.
It hurts to read on some of what you had experienced as a child.
You’ve made it clear that you’re content with being how you are – yet, if memory serves, I’ve also noted that you’ve said narcissists are incapable of “happiness” as we understand it to be.
And so, I wish that there was a way to crawl into the space where your inner child is locked away, and give him all that was robbed from him. I know my tears for you are worthless and unwanted, but they fall, anyway. I know that my sympathy is useless, but you have it, anyway. I know that the pride I feel for your talent and intelligence that is so beautifully expressed in your material won’t reach your inner child, but that’s here for you as well, and I plan to find a way to exhibit it constructively through spreading your material as far out as I can reach.
Thank you for sharing with us, not only your own experiences, but all of the information you have to help free us from our own prisons – despite you not being able to escape yours. My mind can’t fully comprehend that you only do this to secure your legacy, and that there is not a scrap of feeling towards any of us that drives you to do this; I accept that this is truth, but I simply lack the ability to understand it. In any case, your decision has positively impacted my life, as I’m sure it has to hundreds – if not thousands – of others. Thank you so, so much.
— And the emotional roller coaster is back on track, as my laughter broke through my tears at your words coming back to the forefront of my mind… is part of why I feel this way because of my addiction? Good God. I know that, at least, half of this is pure gratitude… and that I need to go educate myself some more.