A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 80



Dear R.

We come from a country where for a long time there was an evil dictatorship in power. He maimed and executed and made people disappear. He tortured people. He exiled thousands of others, including my parents.  I came back to our country in my early twenties, a couple of years after it all came to an end and we got democracy back. I felt so guilty about not having been here and fought for democracy. I admired those who had. Then I met you. You had been part of all that I admired. I fell for that. And you knew it, and made me feel even guiltier. I walked right into your evil labyrinth with no understanding of what the heck was going on. Now I know that I was so guilty about not having suffered under the real regime—and not having fought back—that I made myself a little tyrant and a little dictatorship, a little hairy torturer and narc to cleanse me.

Like a lot of other people (mostly women I dare say) I read Mr. Tudor’s writing and confirmed—and began to really learn about—what I already knew: you are a text-book vampire narc. A truly masterful one I must say. At least I could say that I first fell for your very good looks and our matching political passions. But now that you are turning into a fat and quite ungainly piggybank, you still have your coterie and devotees. It never fails to amaze me! Your exes mill around you. The mother of your 22-year-old daughter even helped you move your things to your new lavish home in the countryside! With her partner as the driver!!!!! Good one, narc!

When we got together, we both had little daughters, who became almost sisters in that frightening regime. We then had a son, 14 years ago, a beautiful son with a disability. He is the only reason I maintain contact with you today. The one sad loss I feel is that of your beautiful daughter (my son’s sister). She no longer sees me or my daughter. I know she made peace with you, after years of suffering your rages, misogyny and manipulations. She was part of mine and my daughter’s life. Yet today, with the help of one of your greatest devotees—your girlfriend-cum-driver-cum-housemaker-cum-nanny—your daughter convinced herself that you are a worthy father. Now we no longer see her. And it makes me sad. After reading HG Tudor, I understand how much fuel you must be getting from knowing that my daughter and I feel that loss.

You have surrounded yourself with an amazing army. I congratulate you, like generals after a war. I have my devotees too. They are the few, but the best. My daughter, my partner (a wonderful man I have been with 6 years). The rest are second-rate: friends who never really wanted to understand.

I now accept the price I paid for those eight years of stupidity and hardheadedness when I just could not bring myself to leave my little dictator. But the peace I have is worth it.

The only thing that is not OK is the damage to my daughter. I could have avoided it when at four years old she said, “Please mummy, I don’t want us to live with him”. One day I will right it. And the damage it is doing to my son, that’s something I must see to.

Well, R. There is nothing to thank you for. No good memories. I learnt nothing good from you. The only positive learning I got from all this was thanks to my own intelligence (which I got back after leaving you) that finally led me to Mr. Tudor, whose writings are making me wiser.

That’s it.

From Wonderful Me

PS. On the bright side, my partner—who loves me and whom I love—is really an admirable man. He tried to get rid of the tyrant that ruled our country. Physically. What you did was a piece of sheep poo next to what he did. I know you know that, and that’s my little victory. And… it’s him who has taught my son to be a man. All you do is say you love him and grimace like a fool.


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