Who’s The Daddy?
I remember when I first met you. It was on a dance-floor and of course I caught your eye, I wanted you to catch my eye. I always draw those needed admiring glances when I move through a crowd but whilst those were required and welcome, I was focussed on ensuring you noticed me. I knew that you would. It was just a question of time. It always is. I was stood near one of the bars.I always chose this bar as it was elevated allowing everyone to see me and allowing me to see everyone and it was from this vantage point that I observed you. I saw you enter the room, your tight as tight could be dress already turning heads and you smiled, winked and blew kisses as you walked down the steps onto the dance floor as if everybody in the club was there for you. You were confident alright but you were over confident and I could see straight through that. I kept watching you as you flirted with the men nearby, irrespective of whether they were with another lady and you seemed oblivious to the hateful stares you received from the handful of girlfriends or wives whose other halfs you flirted with. I was interested in you already. If I had a Spidey sense it would have been tingling.
Your lithe frame entered the dancefloor and you felt that the coloured lights and throaty bass were all there for you as you began to dance. You caught the eye of several men and one by one they tried to dance with you .I could see you smiling to yourself as you turned your back on those you deemed beneath you. Each of them was well-dressed and good-looking but you rejected them. You milled around the dance floor until you neared your target, a handsome chap but he was older than those you had rejected and he was your choice. You pulled the chosen one towards you and you began your dance with him. I could see the way that you were grinding against this man on the dance floor was provocative and suggestive. You maintained eye contact with him, as if letting him out of your sight would cause him to disappear. Your eyes burned with wanton desire and your undulating and writhing was most definitely sexual in nature. The sexual aggression flowed from you and this caught my interest. You appeared as a bright dot on my radar and I knew that I needed to learn more.
It was not long before this dance partner was cast aside and replaced by a tastier and more attractive prospect. Me. You draped your arms about my neck as we danced, ground your crotch into my thigh, turned and pushed your pert posterior into my crotch and it was clear you wanted to seduce me. I played along, reciprocating the movements, letting my hands glide across your body as I eventually steered you across to the bar area and sat beside you on a couch as I ordered us both a drink. This was the first time that I had seen you be still and it allowed me to appraise properly your appearance. Your hair, a dirty blonde colour was not cut but rather chopped short, sticking out in a variety of angles which gave the appearance of not caring but most likely had been carefully pulled and twisted into place before a generous layer of hair spray was applied. I reasoned that you wore your hair short because as a child you were denied the right to have it cut short. You always had to have it long and golden, like the hair of a princess. I bet your father would read you stories about Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Rapunzel as he stroked your hair, telling you how beautiful it was because it was long. I imagined that you wanted to cut it as you got older, the length being difficult to maintain but moreover too symbolic of the safe, suburban and middle-class upbringing you had received when you wanted to rebel. I bet you fought to have that hair cut even just by a few inches but you were forbidden from doing so and now this punkish, chopped and almost butchered hair style was the two-fingered salute you had given to your past. It screamed its story to me since I recognised it from a mile.
Your lipstick was bright red, your eyes framed by black mascara, eye liner and a battleship grey eye shadow. You were thin. Stick-like and I recognised such a frame. You stared at me as you sucked on the straw sliding it in and out of those pursed lips as you tried, without subtlety, to suggest what I might have coming my way. You were much younger than me. I would imagine at least fifteen years between us. Nowhere near illegality of course, that is not my penchant at all, but a sufficient age gap that was noticeable and of course something they would comment on, hewould comment on, if they ever met me. If.
I saw the tattoos on your arms, great sleeves of floral designs and also similar on your thigh as your already short dress rode up as you sat on the sofa. I could see the design was intricate and extensive across your left thigh but it did not mask the line of scars completely. That neat and ordered row of incisions that had been made in your thigh, like notches on a bedpost. They brought you relief, temporary and momentary, but they also shamed you and thus you sought the ink in an attempt to mask those wounds in the same way that I knew this overt confidence, flirtation and sexual aggression was just a mask as well. That light on my radar shone brighter and I could almost smell the fuel that I knew would flow from you freely and readily, just like the blood had flowed down your thigh. I held your gaze, those flinty eyes trying to burn into my mind but getting nowhere, a slight flicker of confusion and then they shifted into conveying that desire you oozed. You had no idea whose web you had flown into but I knew exactly what you were.
“What time is your daddy picking you up?” I asked my question near shouted to be heard over the music playing.
You coughed, the straw shooting from your mouth as you jerked your glass away.
“What? My dad? He’s not picking me up,” you protested. Your expression was not one of mild amusement but rather disdain and irritation. Just as I thought it would be.
“Of course not. Why would he do that when you are coming home with me?” I added with a wide smile. Your eyes widened and you copied my smile.
“I do love daddy issues,” I said quietly.
“What?” you asked unable to hear.
“I said, I nearly missed you,” I replied in a louder tone, “I was about to go home.”
“Well, it is a good job you didn’t,” you answered as you moved closer to me, pressing that fragile and broken frame against me, seeking the warmth, shield and protection that I offered you. You had found your new daddy. I had found a potent new victim.
50 thoughts on “Who’s The Daddy?”
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I’ve never told this to anyone, but when I was young I used to stay stone-faced when in an abusive or stressful situation, but I screamed inside. No. Just the word no, with all the strength I could muster without having it show. Loudly and repeatedly until the situation was in hand. Even while answering calmly externally. As I got older it turned into more of a deep thunderous roar. Deeper than I think I would even be capable of. I still do it. Strangely, I have never screamed out loud and used to dream that I was unable to. I don’t think if you took me to a secluded place that I even could.
I have never injured myself, but talk of cutting here made me think of this as just a different way way of coping or relieving pressure.
Anyone else relate to the internal scream/roar?
No? Carry on – nothing to see here haha.
Narc Angel. That was a great technique to scream NO inside like you did. You did not absorb all the abuse that way. I think it is amazing that your mind came up with that technique. I am adopting it. HG is saying below that there are alternative ways of dealing with emotional pain. Never in my life was it discussed in the educational system when I was growing up. No books. No TV shows. Nothing. In College/University there were suicide hotlines. I guess that counts for something. But there are many incidences that happen between growing up as a child and later perhaps desiring to commit suicide in College/University. That is just about it from the system. Where are the multitudes of mental practitioners and social workers and therapists in society while we are growing up. I guess waiting for us to become defunct? I remember once when I was a child, a creepy, droopy messy-looking sad person was introduced to our class in elementary school and later that same day, this person privately spoke to us one by one, to see if we wanted to tell them `anything.` I felt like saying, I want to tell you to go away because you are scary. Anyway, the creepy, droopy messy-looking sad person never returned. A one-off visit.
NarcAngel
You are a darling!
And I appreciate you sharing this with us.
It made me well up.
It’s so good to feel understood.
I’m going to say it again:
You’re a darling!
Is it a ‘Renata style’ noooooooooo, but internal to you NA? hahah Great idea!
Every time I’m with an irrigating N now, I think of that Renata scene, the one where she is stuffiing tissue in Gordon’s mouth as she screams at him. God, I love that scene so much!
I think my own internal reaction would be more imagining that type of scenario and having a giggle about it. God I bet even as an actress, playing out that scene must have felt so hilariously satisfying! It definitely needs to be made into a gif!
I’m not sure if mine is similar but I internally repeat, “you have no right.” I don’t know where I got it from but the earliest I could remember doing that was with my mom when I was in high school. It only happens when something extremely wrong was done to me so I can probably just count the times I did it using my ten fingers (maybe not even use all of them) but those situations were all very memorable. It felt like a strong and steady determination inside me as I repeated that phrase in my head. It wasn’t a scream in my head but just a repeated utter of that phrase in my head with intense emotion in my chest. I think it was a coping mechanism for me in those times to keep my sanity together. Although in those situations I was in battle mode too. But a lot of times with my mom’s tirades I just don’t let it even inside me and just understood that it’s just how she is. It’s when she or some people did a massive boundary violation that the internal, “you have no right” phrase happens.
I simply shifted my thinking to instant denial and it deflected the ability to get angry and be rightfully furious. It’s probably a direct correlation to why I so passively accepted abusive behaviors ongoing—a state of denial became the modus operandi for how I related to my world. I really appreciate this comment today NA. Made me dig a little.
PSE,
I have recently watched some episodes of The Affair. The main character (Ruth Wilson) cuts herself on her inner thighs. She seems to get some relief from her emotional pain.
That is why it is done, but there are alternative ways of dealing with such emotional pain without engaging in such self-harm.
True that there are other ways of dealing with emotional pain.
A therapist once said that people with a BPD experience anger and (emotional) pain about ten times stronger than the rest of us. It is hard to imagine how strong the pain must be for them.
E.B
I read a quote by someone with PTSD who said “I’d rather have a broken arm than PTSD, because at least I’d know there’d be an end to it”.
Having some experience of PTSD, I agreed.
I’ve only read a little about self-harm, and seen only a few documentaries about it, so my understanding is limited, but I wonder if the overwhelming intensity of the emotional pain is somehow ‘contained’ as it were by the transference of the psychological to the physical realm?
Physical pain tends to activate an endorphin release to counter it, along with the initial sympathetic nervous system response of adrenaline release.
This attenuates to a relaxation response, and so perhaps in some way the self-harming person dissociates from the emotional pain by this pathway, bringing about a reduction in anxiety by this method.
Perhaps the physical pain is easier to bear by comparison, and also has a means of ‘tripping a switch’ so to speak which produces relief.
This is always the behaviour of a person in extremis.
What a desperate situation to be in!
To scar and mutilate your beautiful skin, your beautiful body!
I know that intense, unfixable emotional pain will tempt you to do anything to be free of it.
I feel for the girl in this piece.
Caroline R,
It was very interesting what you wrote about physical pain. I did not know about it, Thank you for sharing.
How intense and unbearable must be their emotional pain to choose self-injury and mutilation. This girl was doing the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time she was doing it. I hope she has learnt a healthy way to deal with it.
E.B.
Thank you for your reply.
I’ve been thinking today that maybe she was emotionally alone in her family too.
Not heard.
Nowhere to go with her intense emotions.
Maybe both parents working.
Maybe she was sent to boarding school.
Maybe she was assaulted.
Maybe N-mother pushed her to be perfect and always smiling, her dad ignored her, and there was no room for her real emotions.
I hope that she’s found some healing and inner strength away from her toxic family.
Never have I engaged in cutting or even considered it, but would be interested in hearing these alternate ways to release emotional pain as explained by a narcissist. When my emotions come to the surface, my coping mechanism is to stuff them and move on. Letting them wash over me and feeling them is unpleasant and frankly, I’m not very good at it. I feel I’m better off to keep them hidden away.
Consult with me and I’ll explain them.
I’d love to
MB
Sweetheart
We encourage all of your efforts to walk to freedom.
Every tentative baby step forward.
We want you to find your voice.
You have a right to work through the sublimated anger.
You had a right to feel angry about things, that happened, but there was nowhere to go with those intense emotions, so turning them inward was your only option.
I know how that feels.
I did that too.
It was done in order to survive.
You had a right to be sad.
To be affronted.
To object.
To be listened to.
To be protected, and respected.
To be considered.
To be seen, and not ignored.
I can feel that smothered feeling in my chest and stomach now, as I write these words to you.
That familiar tightness of being trampled on.
I’m afraid that if I give way a little bit, that I will be annihilated by the overwhelming force of the tsunami ensuing.
I am incandescent with rage about some things below this calm exterior.
I’m not sure that I can keep my self-control.
I fear being out of control.
(See HG? It’s not just you that fears loss of control)
There is no safety net below me.
If I can’t manage to self-soothe, then it will be tantamount to me falling off a cliff to oblivion.
There are no arms to catch me.
This is how I feel.
I’m learning with a counselor to slowly and safely reconnect with all of my anger too.
I’m walking with you, and so is HG, it seems.
Thank you Caroline R. Your words explain almost exactly how I feel on a daily basis. (I don’t feel the incandescent anger. Although I imagine it is repressed.) Nobody in my life really knows me. Heck, I won’t even allow myself to look inside and see what’s there. I know the smothered, sick, shameful feeling you describe. Nothing is wrong, yet everything is wrong. I know I probably need therapy, but I cannot allow myself to be that vulnerable. I tried it once with disastrous results. I won’t be signing up again for that. Thank you for words of encouragement Caroline. HG could probably help me, but an hour wouldn’t be enough to erase a lifetime of emotion stuffing. It would be but a drop in the ocean of the healing that I need to do.
MB
You’ve articulated my feelings very well.
Thank you for bringing up the subject in the first place.
It feels so great to be understood!
It doesn’t matter how long it takes to walk to freedom.
I can only do little bite sized bits every couple of weeks. It’s too much otherwise. I need to let my emotions settle again in between times.
I’m so sorry that you’ve had a bad experience previously.
So, so, sorry!
I have too.
Not now though, I’m pleased to say.
(Me: “I have nightmares and flashbacks…”
Inept Previous Psychologist: “you look ok. Don’t think about it”
Me:” that’s not helpful…”)
I know how bloody expensive it is to get therapy, and then THAT makes me angry because it wasn’t your fault that you find yourself in this situation right now, needing help.
Needing to learn some normal life skills to be able to process and manage your emotions.
We’ll do it though.
We’ll get there.
I’m sure HG has some tactics to help you…
HG is practically ‘Tactics HQ’.
‘Tactics Are Us’.
I’m pleased that he’s offered to help you.
I’m so amazed that you understand me!
It’s a comforting feeling, and a rare experience for me to feel understood.
You’re simply being yourself, and sharing your heart and your vulnerability.
I don’t mean to gush, but…
Thank you!
Caroline R, it is a good feeling to be understood. These are not things I discuss IRL. Just having this outlet has helped me tremendously. I tend to dismiss these feeling as silly or minimize them.
MB
You are ADORABLE in this photo.
Thank you Caroline R. I looked like a waif!
HG
My gravatar seems to have been hijacked by a creature usually seen in a cough syrup commercial.
Not my first choice, if you want my opinion.
Does this behavior scream narcissism to you because it’s nearly always attributed to BPD?
Does what behaviour?
E.B. Sometimes we should just put a sign on our foreheads that say: `Come and get me.` Sigh.
I do not understand what the scars are on her thigh. Am I supposed to know what that is about? Is she what is called, a Cutter? she cut herself there? If so, I never knew anyone that did that. Unless they kept it hidden. Unless most of them keep it hidden, I guess.
Hi princesssuperempath…i didnt know what a cutter was either until one day i noticed on my hair stylists arms lines. I asked and she in a roundabout way told me. She didnt mention bpd but said she had done stupid things in her past. I felt bad for asking but it made me realise you never know what someone may be going thru or what they have gone thru in the past.
Cutting is a trait of bpd but not all with bpd self harm.
C-mum. With the plethora of mental and social practitioners, I find all these broken people unexplainable and this state of affairs is some form of an indictment against society. Like HG says, he kI felt some sort of outrageous emotional episode. I don’t know if it is true, because the media and science both lie, but I heard that some people have imploded within themselves and have literally burned up, by catching on fire. I felt that way. Because I could not lash out in a safe manner. nows of better ways to resolve emotional pain. And I believe him. Last week I had an emotional disaster. If I knew I could have booked an appointment with HG right then and there I would have. Not because I had waited until the last moment, but because an incident happened so quickly, and hit me so hard,
correction.) I lost an entire sentence: *Like HG says, he knows there are much better ways to handle emotional pain. *Something happened last week and I felt some sort of outrageous emotional episode.
PSE, it would be comforting to have HG on speed dial! We do have the closest thing to that with the blog I suppose. Have you consulted with him? It’s nice to have him all to yourself for an hour.
I am attracted mostly to men older than me because they are more mature and experienced. Well my friends and acquaintances are older than me too. I was told by several people that i am wise beyond my age. Since i was abused and neglected when i was a child i had to grow much faster than people of my age. I consider myself to be an old soul. And i should admit that my so called ex brother gave me great advices and taught me a lot. He knew my dad better than me. He never let me say bad things about my family. I appreciated him for that. But what that bastard did to me is unforgivable and i still can’t get rid of the hatred that i feel towards him. I hope one day i will find a strength to forgive myself for being too trusting and opening up to him about my childhood.
My heart goes out to this girl i think she has bpd. She probably had a very dysfunctional childhood and feels lost. I can sympathise bc ive had traits of bpd altho never diagnosed as such. Ive asked two psychologists and both said i dont have bpd but that i am a highly sensitive person hsp. I still believe i have elements of bpd …fear of abandonment, codependancy, splitting tendencies(black and white thinking). There are aspects i dont have of bpd like impulsivity and outlandish behaviours. That said i do think bpd is a spectrum like so many other personality disorders and disabilities.
This girl is running away from one bad situation(her childhood) into the arms of another(narcissistic vulture) but she was drawn to it bc its all she probably knows and feels is her constant.
So many end up as prostitutes or in sex rings, physically abused and killed 🙁
Those who seek protection in the arms of Narcissists will soon be needing protection in the arms of Christ. ♥️ (Police officials and judges often believe the Narcissist so their arms are not the ones to offer protection, for the most part).
T’mara,
Many police officers and judges are narcissists themselves.
E.B., good point; I had not thought of this, but I know you are right. How frightening for a judge to be a Narcissist!
Yes many judges are narcissists! Ive seen many actually side with murderers. Its disgusting.
Terrible!
A few weeks ago I had a pompous police officer bring a psychiatric patient to my work and he was loudly talking about how disgusting and dirty she was in front of her room. Leave it to a common moron to act that way. Narcissists just aren’t very fancy sometimes. He actually thought I was unprofessional enough to engage “collegially” (a stretch to even think he was a colleague) in that manner??
Lorelei: Regarding that police officer: Many people do not realize how they are just one job or a few missing paychecks or an unexpected catastrophe away from being disgusting and dirty. Living in NYC, I see how fast people can spiral down with just a few unfortunate events. And that safety net that is in the latent consciousness of so many people`s mind, people that have worked and paid taxes all their life, does not really exist and they are dumbfounded as they fall down and down and down….And some are so haughty and charmless when they are up, they do not even know how to treat or talk to the `little` people on their way down, and the `little` people have game too. And a little bit of power. They can `accidentally` lose all of your paperwork, file your info. under the wrong name, not tell you the key information and procedures and shortcuts and not tell you what really works, not inform you of certain deadlines, etc. and so many things in order to punish the arrogant back when they feel they can get away with it. And do it all legally by the textbook. Because the textbook is not reality. And, it is fun to them. A sort of vengeance, or justice or vigilantism.
He was an idiot. He clearly wanted to humiliate her for his own gain.
PSE
Your comments caught my eye.
I listened to a discussion on sudden life changes and resilience.
It was observed that Inoue middle class modern society, each of us is really only one car accident away, and one major illness away from the downward spiral that would lead us to having to sell our house, or even becoming homeless.
We find out that our finances/savings run out, our social supports dwindle after a certain time, and we are seriously struggling.
It was interesting.
Our lives have a certain inbuilt fragility to them that previous generations were more conscious of (eg. with regard to using credit, and avoiding debt, saving up before buying, etc).
Carolyn: I know. Some people die and leave behind a pile of secret debt for their families, even though the family thought that everything was traditional and the estate was in order.. And then some countries are always in some sort of war, and other countries always dealing with natural disasters and some famine and drought. And then political overthrows. I remember a man on the news in an Arabic country that was running down the street with all of his money in a wheelbarrow as he ran to the bank in order to exchange his currency before the currency changed. He was too late. Some countries change their currency overnight. And people that hoarded their money end up with truly worthless paper. And even frugal people had to take a haircut, and everyone had to give up some money in their bank account, in some countries. Some of those people were frugal their entire lives, and some were retirees. I think the Euro wiped out a lot of people`s national currency, yes? And what is all this zero interest rates about for some people, but qualitative easing for other people. So there is plenty of blame to go around, from the top to the bottom. I may not have the details correct, but I have the facts correct, if that is possible.
E. B. And many Narcissists are charming. That gift they have jumps to the forefront in all its glory as well, during difficult times. That is why so many people that call the police on the Narcissists are the same people that end up in handcuffs, because the Narcissists is the calm one, while the victims looks crazy to the police. How many times have we heard this. It is funny in a bad way.
PSE,
Sad but true.
When confronted by the police or other people, the narcissist remains pleasant, civil, calm and collected. The victim is a nervous wreck and since she cannot think clearly, she may contradict herself.
Outsiders believe the victim is lying. This is why I do not agree with using body language alone to detect deception. Non-verbal cues are not enough. There are other factors to consider before judging someone unjustly.
There is a thriller called “Pacific Heights” with Michael Keaton as a psychopath. He implements different sorts of malignant hoovers to ruin a couple’s life (Matthew Modine and Melanie Griffith). This film is excellent but it can be quite disturbing and triggering if you have been through something similar.
E.B. Indeed. Thanks for telling me about that film. I hear of it. The title sounds so benign, like the Pacific Ocean, beachy. I would never have guessed that plot from the title. Thank you. I placed Pacific Heights on my movies to watch list.
PSE,
Pacific Heights is an exclusive neighbourhood in San Francisco. This is where the couple in the film (Matthew Modine and Melanie Griffith) live.
E.B. You just reminded me of the film: Disclosure! Remember that movie? Demi Moore really almost harassed the sanity out of Michael Douglas at work while she appears to be the victim. I think I may watch it again, and I sort of forgot the details. I can really put his movie through the Tudorscope now. My goodness. Here is the plot for those that did not see Disclosure, and I remember it was quite entertaining and interesting to watch a man go through what Demi Moore put Michael Douglas through in that film. This movie is PSE approved and please have your popcorn and snacks on hand for this one: `In this Michael Crichton adaptation, Tom Sanders (Michael Douglas) is a senior executive at a cutting-edge technology corporation on the verge of releasing an innovative new product. Sanders’ boss, Bob Galvin (Donald Sutherland), is putting the final touches on a potentially lucrative merger and everything is in order for Tom until a vamp from his past, Meredith Johnson (Demi Moore), swoops in, stealing his impending promotion and then — doubling down — suing him for sexual harassment.` E.B., This movie came out first in 1994. Way before the `Me Too` movement, possibly. This movie could be labeled: `Me Too` for Men.
PSE,
Yes, Disclosure is excellent! Thank you! 🙂 There were a lot of good films produced back in the 90’s.
Meredith tries to ruin his career, his marriage, his future, his whole life. It has been a long time since I last saw this film. It was too triggering for me to watch it in the last years but I think I will be able to do it again soon. Sadly, there is no happy ending in real life, there isn’t any ‘Friend’ who knows what it is going on behind our back and lawyers think about themselves only.
There is nothing like the rage of a vindictive female narcissist.
I have dated three narcissists who work in law enforcement. Good luck trying to convince other people that the ‘good guys’ are actually ‘bad guys’. You will NOT be believed.
No narc-judge as of yet.
You were lucky, EmP. I wasn’t.