Jealous of Your Contentment

 

jealous-of-your-contenment

 

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.

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But Why?

but-why_

I have heard this said so many times, read about it from bewildered and perplexed people and know from experience the confusion that accompanies this question.

“But how could he do this to me after everything else? But why would he behave like this? But who would do such a thing as that? He said he loved me. I know he loved me. How does someone love someone else in such a perfect way and then act as if he does not even know them?”

I have written about how the empath likes to know everything. This is not because you are big-headed or wish to boast. You like to know everything in order to allow you to help. You need to understand a situation. It has to make sense to you. You must be able to comprehend what has happened and find some logical reason for the occurrence. This is why you spend so long trying to work us out. This is why when we are doling out the silent treatment you need to ascertain why we are doing it (I think now you understand we do it because we need to, not because there is a valid (according to your reality) reason for this behaviour). It is a natural empathic reaction. If you understand why something has happened you can then consider the ways in which it can be addressed, remedied and fixed. You want everything to be alright.

Accordingly, when our devaluation is unleashed against you it comes out of nowhere. Yesterday we held hands as we walked through the park together and kissed beneath the spreading oak. Today you have been subjected to a nasty period of name-calling and blaming. You are dumbfounded. Where on earth did that come from? In your reality it makes no sense at all. One minute every is okay,nothing changes but then suddenly we are being horrible to you. It just does not add up. It makes no sense. It gets worse.Not only does it not follow in a logical sense since our response (viewed in your reality remember) seems random, how can a person who says he loves you then batter you with his fists, lock you out of your home, sleep rape you, smash up your car, spit on you and so on? Not only is it not a normal sequence of events if you love somebody then you just do not do that, do you?

This is what makes it so difficult for you to comprehend. We have conned you into thinking that we loved you. We gave you the huge seduction and dazzled you with the golden period. We know what you perceive love to be and we gave it to you in spade loads all manufactured by Narc Inc. Our production line went into over time creating these false acts and hollow declarations of love but you fell for it. You always do. Accordingly, you were duped into thinking that we loved you so that when we begin to devalue you it flies completely in the face of what you understand to be the situation.

You will sit for hours with your close friends and recite example after example of all the wonderful things that we have said and done and then ask,

“How can he hurt me when he loves me so much?”

It is utterly perplexing. Naturally there is method in this madness. If it made sense, if there was a logical reason for this volte face you are more likely to accept it and walk away. This twisted and nonsensical logic is purposefully designed to keep you with us because:-

  • You must know what has happened and make sense of it
  • You want to make things right
  • You want the wonderful golden period again
All of this keeps you right besides us. Guess what? We dole out even more awful behaviour and it still does not make sense and you still do not go. We give you a glimpse of the golden period and your confusion increases. He does still love me I knew it. Then the door is slammed shut and you are left confused yet again but even worse this time, the brief return to the golden period has given you additional hope. You still do not go.
For once, rather than looking at it through your own eyes, consider it from our point of view. The devaluation does not come out of nowhere. It does to you but not to us. It happens because you are not giving us our fuel in the strength, quantity and frequency we demand. That is the logic behind our change in behaviour.
Why is it then that we are able to hurt you when we love you so much? Again, look at it through our eyes and the answer is straight forward. We never loved you. Accordingly, we are not affected by what appears (in your world) to be a hurtful and contradictory shift in our behaviour. Let me help you further. To us you are just an appliance. Initially because this appliance does what we want we look after it. We clean it, maintain it and take pride in it. Then it goes wrong. It is too much effort to try and repair it. We are horrible to you in order to make you work in a different way rather than trying to repair you to run as normal. Remember how people would slap the side of their television to make it work or give the washing machine a kick in the hope of causing it to run properly? You are just the same. You are an appliance and we give you a boot be it figurative or literal to make you provide us with fuel of a negative nature. We eventually get fed up that you are not working as we want you to so we chuck you on the scrap heap like so many discarded fridges, computers and washing machines. We have seen a new, shiny model which has attracted our attention instead.
So when you sit and wonder why this devaluation has happened, why our behaviour makes no sense and how can it be that someone who expresses such perfect love can be so hurtful, you know the answer. It makes no sense in your world but every sense in our world where you are just an appliance. Perhaps you had better start thinking about making some self-improvements and increasing your longevity yes?

 

A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 29

A LETTER TO THE NARCISSIST -NOT THE ONE'S LETTER

Good guy,

Men who use the internet to scope out innocent victims are cowards. You can shape who and what you are in a very deceitful way in order to force someone to love you. To make me think that our connection is something special. You meticulously brainwashed me through a screen to get what you wanted. You told me what kind of  woman I was going to be, and I was to continue being that woman even after you changed.  Unfortunately for you, I was not going to be that fuel you desired for the rest of your life. I bet you felt a sense of ease when we first met, finally, no more searching. I’ve found the one that will accept me because I do nothing wrong! What a let down it must have been for you to realize I was not the doormat you envisioned me to be. A let down that you have already gotten over.

 

It’s a sick game. Love, being loved, loving someone else is a game to you. It’s a game you will never win. The only winners are the women who get as far away from you as possible and never look back. I needed more security than a few words after you cheated and lied. I needed something called actions but you were always too fuel focused to give me what I needed. Not that my needs would ever be important to you. You were so good at making them seem important. I came to realize how that amazing connection we had in the beginning was nothing. You can get that connection from anyone. I am not special to you. What we had was never special.

 

You are not a husband, never a friend, and a horrible father to my son. You can forget your image of being a “good” guy. You can shove your dream of ever having a green card in America to escape England from your past, friends, and family up your arse!! I know none of that even matters to you right now, because you are getting supply from other women, family and fake friends that feel bad for you. Once it runs out I will be stronger. So thank you for ignoring me. Thank you for leaving and doing shitty mistakes a “good” guy would never do. I now realize that if it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. I have dated them in the past. You were by far the worst. Because of your complete change in personality I was able to pinpoint exactly who and what you are to avoid. My focus is me and only me. You are now dead to me, our memories mean nothing. I am discovering a new love and that’s called self love. One you will never experience. And I’m glad because it leaves me knowing you will always suffer. You will never be apart of the new and better me.

Sincerely,

Not the one

Scapegoat

 

scapegoat

 

“You don’t want to end up like him do you now?”

Years later those words still echo through my mind. They act as some cruel guardian which ensures that I will never stumble, never flounder and never fall victim to the injustices which this world has in store for me. I was shown what happens to those who are weak, those who fail to seize control and grasp the power for themselves. The consequences of failure were paraded before me on an almost daily basis to allow me to witness the full horror of what it was to be sub-standard, below par and just not good enough.

I knew that this fate must not befall me and that it became necessary for me to clamber higher than everybody else no matter what it took or what the cost was. So long as there was somebody underneath me on that ladder as I climbed, then, as they saying goes, the devil would take the hindmost.

Onwards and upwards, climbing higher and higher to escape the consequences of vulnerability, weakness and failure. I was given a swift induction into learning how to stay ahead and protect myself. There were two routes available to ensure that you stayed number one and the best. Strive to stay ahead of the opposition and by the opposition I was taught that this means everybody else and furthermore bring the opposition down so that they become subsumed into the quagmire of failure.

If your opponent is taller, chop him off at the knees. If he is better looking, fling acid in his face. If he is smarter, batter his brains out. If he is stronger, poison him into weakness. If he is wealthier, sap him of penny and cent. If he lives in a pleasant place, pollute the neighbourhood. If he has a good job, get him sacked. Figuratively speaking some of the time of course and that means to do all of those things, that it is necessary to play the scapegoat card. Become proficient at pointing the finger elsewhere, cultivate persuasiveness so that the allocation of blame falls on the shoulders of another, practise plausible deniability so the mantle of fault never rests on my head. Never be the one at fault. Ever. Those were my instructions.

The indoctrination continued. You are not to blame, you are not guilty, you are not the problem, you did not cause the problem either. Erase sorry from your vocabulary as you do not feel it, remove the idea of apologising as you have nothing to apologise for, do not express anything which might be regarded as guilt as that is an alien concept.

There is always somebody else who can be blamed. It does not take long for the repeated mantra of it never being my fault to engender that sense of impregnability and a lack of accountability. Since it is the fault of everyone else it is impeccable logic is it not that it can never be my fault? It therefore follows that if it is never my fault then such a fault-free individual is truly superior and stands above all others.

To facilitate this it therefore becomes necessary to identify a scapegoat or more accurately scapegoats. The role of scapegoat slots seamlessly into our thinking. Fault is an intangible concept but it exists. Someone is always to blame. I was taught that from the beginning. Things do not just happen, they happen for a reason and the reason that she was always crying, that he was always failing, that they were socially ostracised, that she could not pass her exam, that he never scored a goal, that they never went on holiday, that he could not hold down a job, that she was a single mother, that he had a drink problem, that she was ugly, that he lived in a poor area, that she was never invited out, that he died alone, that she was beaten, that he was arrested, that she was raped, that he was murdered was because they were scapegoats.

Make others the scapegoat and immunity from fault and blame follows and thus one can move without hindrance, barrier or boundary. Make him or her a scapegoat because if you do not get in first they will do it to you. Make sure you blame them before they can turn that accusing eye in your direction. Stay one, no ten, steps ahead. They deserve to be blamed. If they had any value they would not be stigmatised in such a fashion, it is their own fault.

I learnt that they may come with smiles but the blade of blame is held behind their back ready to strike, so plunger your dagger of fault deep into them first. Do not be taken in by the false proclamations of love and compassion, they are but veils to place across my eyes so a crown of accountability can be thrust on my head.

Soon, the lessons that I learned began to automatically teach me. Not feeling enough attention at a party? The guests are ignorant and impolite. Tell one that this is a case and see how the attention shifts. Served slowly at the bar? The bar man is incompetent and he should be reminded of this fact. See how he has responded now? Report not completed on time? Find a junior colleague and point out how he has failed to provide the necessary information. Criticised for not earning enough? Blame the bosses for running the company into the ground and failing to reward an achiever such as I. Feeling restless and unloved? Lash out at her so she seeks to make amends. Stuck in a traffic jam? Blame the department of transport for the ill-thought out road works. Struggling to sleep? Must be those damned neighbours and their late-night music, go and give them a piece of your mind and see how much better you feel when you point out they are at fault.

But what if it is not those things and it is because I am not interesting enough to talk to, or not attractive enough to catch the server’s eye, or not good enough at my job, or not hitting the targets because I cannot apply the required effort, or because I do not show her any affection any longer, or because I set off late from the house, or because I fell asleep this afternoon?

Never. That is what they want you to think. That is the control that they seek to exert over you. That is how they get inside your mind and try to make you think that you are weak, when you are not. Remember, they want you to be the scapegoat. They want you to be the failure, they want you to be the subject of their blaming, so you take the rap, take the hit and become the patsy. Yes, you are right, I remember now.

The diktat still resonates even now, reminding and emphasising. That is not your role. You are better than all of them. You will rise above them and to do that you must work hard at everything and ensure that they are the ones who are to blame, because they are. They are the ones who are trying to stop you achieving and claiming what is rightfully yours. They are the traitors, the insidious foes, the treacherous betrayers who spout sedition and practise disloyalty. Let them know who they are, scapegoat them.

Thus this carries into everything that we do. We find a scapegoat in every aspect of our lives. The put-upon sibling, the browbeaten colleague, the lambasted neighbour, the oddball in the local superstore, the subjugated underling, the butt of the social circle and most of all you, the intimate partner who becomes the ultimate scapegoat.

It is you that becomes the receptacle for our domineering, hectoring, nagging, bullying, blaming, intimidating, coercing, blaming, accusing, menacing, terrorising, bludgeoning and oppressive persecutions. You burnt dinner, you made the white shirt turn pink, you forgot to get that present that we wanted, you failed to satisfy our sexual appetite, you made us be unfaithful, you made us break that mirror, you made us slap you, you made us ill, you made our team lose, you cost us that promotion, you woke us too early, you woke us too late, you let us fall asleep, you kept us awake, you didn’t do it, you did it. Again.

This conditioning ensured that the only way to stay ahead, to win and to succeed was to find someone else to blame and that does not change because we know you are just waiting to try to blame us, well we know your game. We have you in our eyes and it is you who is to blame, not us.

The only way to prevent the hell of being a scapegoat is to make others a scapegoat instead.

And so I do as I do, I say as I say and I am what I am so that I do not end up like him, like her, like them, like you.

Can you really blame me for doing that?

How To Co-Parent With A Narcissist

HOW TO CO-PARENT

Often viewed as one of the harshest outcomes from an ensnarement with a narcissist is the issue of children and co-parenting with the narcissist. A frequent question that is asked of me by many individuals who find themselves in this predicament, worn down and unsure of how to go about this in an effective manner for both themselves and also their child or children.

The most common reason given to failing to implement total no contact is the issue of shared parenting with a narcissist. The attempt to escape the nightmare of ensnarement is viewed as unachievable and increases the concern, fear and anxiety for the non-narcissist parent in feeling eternally chained.

Using HG Tudor’s established expertise with regard to the field of narcissists and narcissism, this Assistance Package addresses a wide range of matters in an easy-to-understand manner, with practical advice and tips which have been successfully used by individuals co-parenting with narcissists and all based on HG Tudor’s unrivalled understanding.

This Assistance package covers

Co-Parenting as part of your no contact regime

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Handling hoovers if they happen through the co-parenting regime

How to address communication with the narcissist with regard to co-parenting

What to do when the narcissist becomes problematic concerning arrangements

What to do where the narcissist involves a new partner with the children

What to expect in terms of the extent and regularity of the narcissist’s involvement in the co-parenting process

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How to handle occasions where joint appearances occur in relation to school or sporting events

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The Power of Demise

 

the-power-of-demise

 

“As long as I have a want. I have a reason for living. Satisfaction is death.”

So said George Bernard Shaw. To us satisfaction is not death but we derive satisfaction from death, the death of others. I wrote about how I rarely attend funerals and explained the reasons why, but that is not to say that we will not use the instances of dying and of death to our distinct advantages. Indeed, where the spectre of death looms waiting to cut that last slender link between the person and life, with his sharpened scythe, our kind come crawling from the woodwork in order to avail ourselves of the copious fuel that is available. Should you see one of our kind re-appear after an absence, there is a reasonable chance that the sickly sweet smell of death has attracted us.

Should we learn that a family member or friend is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, then this presents a marvellous opportunity for our kind. To begin with, the façade can be maintained through demonstrating false compassion about the circumstances of the person whose demise is imminent. We know all the phrases to rollout to the procession of visitors and comforters who are drawn to the bed of the dying individual. We delight in keeping a vigil besides this person even though we may not have bothered with them in years. Should someone be as bold to question why we have appeared now of all times after remaining away, we will seize on such an unwarranted observation to castigate the questioner.

“How can you ask such a thing like that, at a time like this?”

“This isn’t about me; it is about Uncle Malcolm.” (How we say this with a straight face still surprises me.)

“You can talk, what have you done for her lately?” (Which will be asked even if we know that the questioner has been a total rock to the dying individual)

Our response will be designed to draw an emotional reaction and allow us to drink of the fuel provided.

We will provide the rudimentary appearance of caring, although it is all for show. We will of course leave the heavy lifting work to other people. We are not there to change the pus-ridden bandages or sooth the fevered brow. We will not clean up after someone soils themselves or spills food and drink down their front from shaking, tremulous hands. Not at all, but we will do what we do best and shower words of empty kindness, false compassion and fake consideration towards the ill individual. This makes us look good in the eyes of all assembled and their nods of approval and muttered thanks not only provides us with fuel but adds to the façade’s maintenance. We are a good stick for travelling all this way (we were coming anyway for another reason) and offering such eloquent words of comfort to all assembled.

Watch us as we move amidst family members, friends, colleagues and neighbours who turn up to see if they can help as we position ourselves as gatekeepers. Nobody gains admittance without seeing us first so that we may suck in the fuel that comes with such a heightened emotional situation. Tearful siblings, stern-faced uncles, bewildered cousins all ripe for us to send a pleasant and supportive comment towards, purely to receive their thanks, gratitude and approval.

We will not allow the person whose sands of time are running out to inhabit centre stage one last time as we camp on to their ground, usurping them through an exhibition of apparent concern and compassion. Watch carefully and you will see that we do not actually do anything for the dying person, that is not our role, there are minions for that and it is all beneath us. Instead, we see this as a chance to draw fuel and appear to be a supportive individual who is pulling everyone together and ensuring that the dying person’s final days are as happy and as comfortable as possible.

We have seen enough times what needs to be said in order to produce the tears, the slowly dipped head and the weak smile, the attempt to be brave despite the heavy sadness. Inside we do not feel this as we greet each person. We feel empowered at the fuel that flows. We hover by the bed, watching over the new arrival’s interaction with our charge, commenting on what we have been doing for them (in fact it will be someone else who has cared for them but we are content to take the credit) so we gain additional approval and thanks. We regard these visitors as having come really to see us, to thank us for our work, our generosity and our greatness, rather than the dying, shrivelled person in the bed nearby. Like some morbid cuckoo we appear and take over this person’s final act, claiming it for ourselves, our fuel lines snaking towards anybody and everybody who appears.

Of course there even remains the opportunity to draw fuel from the dying individual. Though they may look at us through morphine-hazed eyes and mumble medicated words which are difficult to discern, the tightness of their grip on our arm or hand tells us plenty about how they appreciate what we are doing. As their time on this world draws to a close, we still see the chance to pull some fuel from this person as we trot out the familiar platitudes at a time like this. We do not say them to convey comfort, but only to ensure that appreciation, gratitude and thanks comes our way and in turn fuels us.

As guardian and comforter-in-chief we position ourselves at the centre of everything during this period. We do little but direct others and issue our spoken commands and observations, all of which being self-serving. We will endeavour to create yet more fuel by leaning in low and listening intently as the dying person speaks, perhaps their last words as we nod and gently pat them with our hand, the chosen one for their final speech. We will take these words and use them to our advantage. Should the grieving widow, let’s call her Emily ask what her now departed husband said, we might dismiss his actual words and say,

“He said, tell Emily I am sorry for what I did.”

Her look of confusion at our false utterance will provide fuel. Alternatively, we might say,

“He said, tell Rose I love her so, so much.”

Her puzzled look as she asks “Who is Rose?” generates a further dollop of fuel.

Then again, we may pretend that some huge secret has been imparted to us and that we cannot say what it is in order to draw questioning and attention to ourselves.

Indeed, there may be instances where there is that last chance to draw some negative fuel, to make those dimmed eyes flares one last time in shock, hurt and confusion. An opportunity to lean in close and whisper a final caustic sentence, designed to consign this wretched person to spend their final moments in torment, unable to respond effectively, their grimaces and clawing indicative of the discomfort that has been caused by the parting savagery that has been gently spoken into their ear. A parting burst of negative fuel which underlines our sense of omnipotence that we can still achieve this even at a time like this. Such an act is usually saved for someone who we truly believe deserves it.

I have watched in my time a master practitioner at such behaviours. From silent child made to sit and observe, through to knowledgeable adult who can see straight through this veneer and who knows what is really being done. I have seen all these moves, actions and behaviours meted out by this supposed bastion of compassion and all the while I knew what was really going on.

I may not have copied those behaviours extensively myself – usually because time has never permitted me to spend such days providing such a vigil – but I have seen it when younger and snapshots when older, as well as recollections from others which all fits together. I know what she does. When she arrives, immaculately attired, heels clicking away on the floor as she assumes centre stage, I focus on that click click clicking and know that the death watch beetle has arrived.

I have learned and I may yet choose to apply those lessons should the need arise, but I know for sure that I will seek that last fountain of negative fuel before the death rattle. I know who I will save my choice comment for in order to achieve that satisfaction from death.

Narcissist and Intimate Partner Primary Source (“IPPS”) : The Four Classes

the-four-classes

 

I have written before about how there are four cadres of narcissist – the Victim, the Somatic, The Cerebral and the Elite. I have also references on many occasions the three different schools – the Lesser, the Mid-Range and the Greater. Knowing what cadre and school your narcissist belongs to is extremely helpful in enabling you to understand why he or she behaves in the manner that they do and also to enable you to know what you need to do and what you should expect.

It is also worth your while knowing that there are also four classes which are applicable to the interaction between us and our primary sources. There are, effectively, four overarching methodologies which our kind applies to our primary source of fuel. The people who are our primary sources are almost always intimate partners and we operate in a certain way with regard we treat those people. I am not referring to the narcissistic cycle of seduction, devaluation, discard and hoover but instead the interaction over time between us and our primary sources.

Identifying the type you are engaged with or have been engaged with will provide you with insight into his or her behaviour and allow you to understand what you can expect by way of further interaction.

The first is the Nomad. This narcissist will form a relationship and conduct the narcissistic cycle and then as part of that cycle, identify a new appliance. Once with the new appliance, there may be the occasional hoover of the old appliance and there will be intermittent seduction of passing interests whilst with the new appliance and then another new appliance is sought out. The Nomad will triangulate the new appliance that he has and that triangulation will be with both the old appliance and other appliances, but he will only “skirmish” with those old and other appliances whilst with the new. He uses the old appliances and the other appliances naturally for fuel, he uses them to triangulate with the current, new appliance but he will not return to the old appliance to form an ongoing relationship. He may spend a few days with that person, a night together, maybe even a holiday but he will not want to commence the more formal relationship with the old appliance. He will always consider a return, after all hoover fuel is excellent fuel and he will take it but he has no desire, nor the energy, to instigate a long golden period through this hoover. He will connect, charm for a night, a few days perhaps a week or two and then he will return to the current appliance. He may come back to the old appliance much later down the line, when there is a different new appliance, but the pattern will remain the same. There will be no relationship in the formal sense with that old appliance. That has happened once and will not again, but the opportunity for a brief burst of fuel will not be relinquished. As for the other appliances, he will utilise them in the same way. He will spend a night with them, perhaps a few days but there will be no relationship at all. Unlike the old appliance, where there once was a relationship, the other appliances are just passing fancies, to distract him from the current, new appliance and to use for the purposes of triangulation.

Once he tires of the new appliance, he finds someone different and does not return to the old and the other appliances but seeks fresh territory. He will seek out a completely new appliance. He will triangulate this new and different appliance with the recently discarded one, he may even do so with the one before that, the older appliance but he will not form relationships again with the old or older appliances. He is always moving, seeking out new victims, occasionally hoovering old ones, but not to the extent of resurrecting an ongoing relationship with them.

 

The second is the Ping Pong Player. This type of narcissist will secure his new appliance and he will triangulate her with the old appliance. He will then hoover the old appliance and return to her as part of an ongoing relationship. He will triangulate her with the recently replaced appliance who was the new appliance. He will then vacillate back and forth between these two appliances, leaving one for the other, a lengthy and ongoing tug-of-love as the narcissist bounces back and forth like a ping pong ball between the two same people. There may be interaction with other appliances on an intimate level but they will be one night stands and brief liaisons. He is only interested in the long-term in moving between two particular appliances. He has his two primary sources who he goes back and forth between for as long as he can. Should one eventually decide against continuing with this arrangement then this narcissist will organise a replacement and draw them into this ping pong set-up. The newly escaped former appliance will be hoovered initially in order to maintain the ping pong set-up, but if this fails then a new person will be drawn into the arrangement. There may be intermittent hoovers of the escaped appliance but she will no longer form part of the ping-pong arrangement as the narcissist now has two primary sources to shuttle back and forth between

 

 

The third is the Anchor. This primary source is long-suffering. The narcissist will have a long-standing intimate partner, usually a spouse and there will be children involved. The narcissist will seek out fresh appliances and conduct affairs, possibly leaving the long-standing appliance and striking out anew with the replacement. After a period of time, the narcissist will return to the long-standing appliance, often citing missing the children, or doing it for the children, or they realised just how much their spouse truly loves them and they love her. The recently acquired appliance will be cast aside for some time. The narcissist may hoover that discarded appliance at a future point but only for the purpose of one-night stands and infrequent liaisons. He has no interest in resurrecting the relationship again. Instead, he will then seek out a new appliance and leave the long-standing one again as he pursues the dream of potent fuel forever with the newly acquired individual. Once again the affair will end and the narcissist will push her to one side and return to the long-suffering appliance. Time and time again he will leave her, having affairs and leaving home, before returning at a future point. It is often an individual who is regarded as the Anchor, the one who remains in situ and never changes, who is co-dependent to a considerable degree and is unable to want anyone other than the narcissist no matter how many times he has left and come back and no matter how many affairs that he has had.

 

The final category is the hybrid. This narcissist may operate the Anchor scenario before over time changing to the Nomad and then perhaps back to the Anchor or the Ping Pong arrangement. He will morph and shift between these different approaches, often as a consequence of the disruption to the primary source of fuel, whereby for instance the long-suffering Anchor finally moves on or is helped away from the narcissist, or perhaps both primary sources in the Ping Pong arrangement reject the narcissist and he is forced to adopt a Nomadic approach.

There are numerous reasons why these arrangements are adopted, dependent on the type of victim, the type of narcissist and other factors which I shall elaborate on in a separate article. No doubt you can recognise which methodology was applicable to your entanglement.

Nothing’s Impossible

 

nothings-impossible

There are times when even my charm is in limited supply and is refusing to stretch. This often happens when I have subjected a victim to a fierce period of devaluation so that they have been pushed to their limits and they are at breaking point. Something stirs inside of them which causes them to decide that they need to escape me. They may not fully understand why but they know that they need to depart. It may be the case that an external influence is interfering in my carefully laid plans of denigration and this meddling threatens to puncture or even sever my supply of delicious negative fuel. It is at these moments when I am staring at the potential loss of a succulent supply of fuel that I make a particular play in order to prevent the cessation of supply. In such circumstances I will ensure that there is only you and I and that the potential for external interference is at a minimum. I need to ensure that I have your undivided attention and there will not be somebody else seeking to throw a spanner into the works. I want them excluded and banished so that I can concentrate entirely on you and make my last throw of the dice.

“I know that this time I will have to change,” I will begin as I fix you with my most earnest of looks. You stop what you are doing and look at me and already I can see the indecision in your eyes as I start with this sentence. It is always a good opening gambit. You and your like love to think that we can change, that there is some goodness deep within us that can be harnessed and used to get us back on track. You are great believers in redemption.

“I need a miracle to help me this time, “ I continue as I underline the gravity of the task that I am faced with. By according such gravitas to your stated intention to depart, I demonstrate just how seriously I am taking your threat. Inside I am exploding with rage at your audacity in daring to even to suggest that you will leave me. Me, of all people, me who has done so much for you. It is everything I can do to contain the fury but I know I must do so for an explosion now will be what finally pushes you away.

“How did we come to be this far apart?” I ask fixing you with a pleading look. By underlining that we were once so close, nay inseparable, I am appealing to your desire to bring us back to that closeness once again. This also allows you a chance to talk and talk is something you like to do. I let you trot out all the perceived injustices that you have supposedly suffered at my hands. I hear little of it because I know that you are mistaken and this is all based on your incorrect perceptions of me. This time I just have to let it wash over me in order to allow my influence to exert itself over you. I cannot stand to be criticised and inside I am dying but I am taking this blow for the greater good, the greater good of ensuring this precious fuel supply remains intact.

“Just tell me what you need me to do and I will do it,” I trot out next, conning you into thinking that you have some vestige of power and authority over me, when of course you have none. Again in order to serve my own purposes I am content to allow you to think that you can bring some influence to bear over me. Again this will give you a chance to detail all of the changes and remedial behaviours you expect me to engage in. I will nod and make the appropriate noises as you ramble on about the changes you want me to effect. I pluck the lines which I have heard others use on so many occasions to enable me to continue my con. You are suckered by it on every occasion. I know it works and this is why I do it.

“I know we can get through this, nothing’s impossible,” I add as I take your hands and stare into your eyes. Invariably this line secures you giving me yet another chance and your relief eclipses my own as I know that I have you once again. Your joy at not parting provides me with even further fuel and I can allow you a brief golden period by way of reward. After all, you may as well enjoy it because it is not going to last for long is it?

The Player of Games

 

the-player-of-games

 

I love playing games. As I have written before, the games are always being played. I only ever play to win otherwise there is no point. I cannot lose and sit back and smile and accept it was nevertheless an enjoyable experience because if I was to lose then it could not be enjoyable. I would be accepting that you or someone else is better than me. You are not. He is not. They are not. I always have to win. In order to achieve this I operate by a particular set of rules. You think you know what those rules are because when we first come together I deign to play by your rules; I agree to operate by the systems and conventions of your reality. That is easy for me to do because everything is going swimmingly. I am seducing you and therefore you are letting me win because it feels good. I am content to go along with the pretence of agreeing that these are the rules of engagement. You think you are winning because you are getting this wonderful, generous and loving person. In reality, I am winning because I am receiving plenty of positive fuel from you.

It is thereafter that the rules alter because I decide (and it is always my decision) that we will now abide by the rules in my reality. You are not given a rulebook and you have to guess what those rules are. As soon as you think that you have grasped them and got a handle on them, they will suddenly change. It is akin to playing a game of football and I am winning three nil. You score two more goals and you are in the ascendancy and likely to equalise. There would normally be fifteen minutes to go but suddenly I change the rules so there is just one minute left. You fail to score and I win. You protest stating that is not the correct time but it does not matter because here I am the referee, the assistants and the fourth official and what I say goes. If you do not like it, tough. I will just pick up the ball and go home with it. It is like a game of darts where you have to start from 501 and end with a double. I on the other hand start from 51 and do not need a double. You claim it is not fair but why should I care about it? I have to win. Thus, you may realise that I enjoy a lie-in on a Sunday morning so you do not disturb me. I will purposefully set the alarm early and get up waking you early. Or if I do have a lie in, I will concoct some mystery appointment that I have missed because you let me lie in. When you wake me early the following Sunday I will erupt at you for being so selfish and not letting me sleep.

When you think have ascertained what the rules are they will alter. You will do your best to try and keep up but it is exhausting and frustrating. Yet, this manipulation of the rules to allow our kind to win does not end there. Goodness me no. Our driven desire to always be the winner means that not only will we sucker you by pretending to play by your rules and then change them; we will then change the game. One moment you think you are playing Monopoly and then I am telling you it was Professor Plum in the Study with the Candlestick.

“But that is Cluedo,” you will declare rather puzzled.

“I know,” I will smile in return.

“But we are playing monopoly.

“No we are not.”

“Yes we are, look this board has streets from New York on it.”

“No it doesn’t, those are rooms in the stately home.”

“What are you talking about? See here and here, street names.”

“Are you blind? Those are snakes and ladders.”

“What? You’ve changed it again.”

“No I haven’t. You are just making a fuss because you are losing.”

“What are you on about? I am not losing, I was winning.”

“Not at all. Check mate.”

“What?”

Our phenomenal capabilities for lying, blame-shifting, denial and reflection all mean that the game will change. You are wrong footed, unsure of yourself, confused and we keep on doing it. We must win, always and you have to lose, at your cost. We will apply all our methods of manipulation to ensure we are victorious and you lie sprawled in the dirt, broken and defeated. Our success has to be at everything and I mean everything, from the trivial to the substantial, Defeat is never an option for our kind and we will bend, twist and snap the rules and alter the game in order to achieve this. Now, let’s play a game. It is my favourite. You may know it. It is called Guess Who? You have no chance.

The Narcissist Always Judges You

 

“Bring forth the next defendant,” my booming baritone declares from my elevated position. You find yourself being hauled and pushed by two of my lieutenants as the drag you up some stairs. The noise of a raucous crowd grows as you emerge blinking and anxious into the dock. Your eyes dart about the crowded courtroom as you look for recognisable faces but none are apparent. You see elements of familiarity, are those our friends and family, but they seem different in some way? You cannot quite work it out. You just see stroppy wax-like faces, mouths agape, a torrent of bilious noise raining down towards you, fingers jabbing the air, arms being waved frenetically. A seething mass of anticipation and disapproval. The crack of a gavel being wielded cuts through the cacophony and all eyes turn, including your own to me as I sit across and above from you. Attired in judicial robes in accordance with my status, I stare at you, eyes narrowed and you shrink back under this unwavering gaze.

“Well,” I announce, “What have you got to say for yourself?”

You frown, puzzled by this question. You do not even know why you are here. You cannot think straight as there is a throbbing sensation in the middle of your brow and a sickness rising and falling in your stomach. Your shaking hands grasp the rail of the dock but you remain silent.

“I said,” I declare in a louder voice, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

The assembled crowd begin to chant.

“What? What? What? What?”

The noise increases as those who have crammed into the courtroom lean forward creating walls of sneering and sardonic faces all around you. The galleries are packed with eager voyeurs and the noise cascades down on to you. The gavel once again interrupts the crowd and a hush descends. There is an air of expectancy as I and the crowd wait for you to speak. You feel a jab in your side as one of the lieutenants elbows you, a savage prompt for you to talk.

“I don’t understand why I am here,” you say. Your voice sounds weak and quiet but it is apparent that everyone has heard you as there is a collective intake of breath and then you hear the intermittent remarks thrown towards you.

“Idiot!”

“Shameful!”

“So disrespectful!”

“Fool!”

Your eyes go back to me and you see me draw myself up bristling with indignity.

“You don’t understand?” I boom. The crowd start to jabber.

“She doesn’t understand!” “She doesn’t understand!”

“Such impertinence, you should know why you are here,” I declare pointing the gavel at you. The noise of the crowd subsides a they crane forward to hear what you have to say.

“No, I don’t understand.”

“Well you ought to understand and you ought to be addressing me properly,” I continue.

“Sorry?”

“Ah you are sorry are you? What are you sorry for?” I ask seizing on your reply.

“Er I meant I didn’t understand what you meant.”

“Ah, yet another lack of understanding,” I announce to the sound of tutting from the crowd. You can see heads shaking all around you.

“Are you an idiot? A fool? A simpleton?” I ask.

“Certainly not.”

“Certainly not, my lord,” I reply with a smile which bears no warmth.

You frown still unsure what on earth you are doing in this place and who all these people are and most of all why is it that I am sat as a judge presiding over you. I give you an encouraging look. You look left and right feeling uncertain before you speak again.

“Certainly not, my lord.”

“At last some progress,” I say. The crowd nod in approval.

“So, I shall ask you again, what have you got to say for yourself?”

“I do not understand why I am here,” I raise my eyebrows in expectation, “my lord.”

“Well you should!” I explode in a sudden rage.

“Yes you should, yes you should,” repeats the crowd.

“Why am I here?” you say but your question is drowned out by the noise.

“A week of silent treatment,” I announce and slam the gavel down with a loud crack.

“What for?” you cry puzzled and alarmed. There is gasp from the crowd at your question.

“Two weeks for such impertinence,” I add.

“This is not fair.”

“Three weeks for challenging our authority,” I announce.

“You cannot judge me, this is ridiculous, I don’t even know why I am here, I do not know what I am accused of.”

“Three weeks of silent treatment and a dose of triangulation with a replacement of our choosing,” I cry with a gleeful look in my eyes.

“You cannot do this,” you assert.

“What?” I roar, “I can do as I please.”

“This must be against the law; this is not right.”

“I am the law!” I roar.

“Surely you should tell me what I have done?”

“I should not have to do anything that you say, I am the judge.”

“Then what about the jury, surely they should decide whether I am guilty or not, whatever it is I am accused of.”

I look reflective for a moment.

“Yes, you have a point, very well, I shall allow it,” I decree in a magnanimous tone, “never let it be said that this court is unfair. Ask the jury.”

I point towards the jurors sat on the right hand side and you notice them for the first time. They are all staring at you. In actual fact you see my face twelve times staring at you.

“Guilty!” announces the first juror.

“Wait, I haven’t even asked you what I am guilty of yet!” you protest.

“Guilty!” cries the second juror.

“Guilty!” shouts the third.

You shake your heard utterly bewildered by the announcement of these verdicts.

“This is preposterous, no charge has been read out to me, I have not entered a plea and there should be a trial. This is a joke!” you cry.

“Six months of gas lighting to run consecutively to the earlier sentence!” I holler above the braying of the crowd.

“This isn’t fair.”

The pronouncements of guilt continue to ring out as the crowd chant “Guilty, guilty, guilty!” at you.

A man leans into the dock from behind you, he thrusts a microphone under your nose.

“Hello, Ian Sim from the Daily Smear, how do you feel?”

“What?” you reply backing away as another microphone appears.

“Hello, Mark Mywords from the Global Liar, what’s it like to be such a horrible person?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Hi, Ivor Stain from Channel Bias, do you think you can cope with this sentence?”

“May Day from Bad News, did your family make you do it?”

More faces lean into the dock, jostling with one another as questions are hurled at you. The crowd’s noisiness continues as its members drive one another into a frenzy. You see my face times twelve as the jurors leap up and down, hooting and laughing as they point and continue to yell “guilty” in your direction. Through it all you can hear my baritone as more and more punishments are added to the already burgeoning list and your head swims with the barrage of sounds. Faces blur, nausea sweeps across you and your heart hammers in your chest. You feel hot, you feel faint and arms grab you from either side and pull you along the dock.

“What’s happening, I don’t understand, what I am supposed to have done?” you murmur.

“Don’t worry,” says a calm voice and you turn your head to see an elegant lady stood next to you, the lieutenants who were once there having disappeared. Who is this woman? Where has she come from? You have never seen her before.

“Don’t worry,” she repeats, “I will take care of him for you,” she smiles and promptly lets you go. She strides from the dock towards me as you teeter at the top of the stairs, the darkness of the cells somewhere beneath you and then you topple forward and crash into the chasm below.