LET ME TAKE YOU ON A TRIP

When I first take you on board my yacht you will no doubt admire its sleek and pristine appearance. From the polished hull through to the crisp and pressed uniforms of its crew, my vessel exudes expense, opulence and desirability. You marvel at how magnificent it looks, the white of the hull contrasting with the gently lapping azure sea. I take you on an impromptu tour showing you the master bedroom, the well-equipped kitchen, decadent living areas and inviting bathrooms. Every detail has been carefully considered in ensuring that this is a yacht you want to always sail in. The flowers that have been placed on your side of the bed are your favourite. You see the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and can already feel its soft embrace as you slide it around you following an invigorating shower.
Back on the immaculate deck,I show you to a sun lounger and invite you to relax as we set sail, a hot sun blazing in a sky where there is not a cloud to be had. You lie down enjoying the caress of the sun’s rays as you are waited on by my crew, a succession of delicious and cold drinks brought to your side as you slip into a gentle sleep.
A sudden lurch of the vessel rudely awakens you and you shiver. The sun has vanished, a canopy of dark grey clouds having covered it. You sit up as you hear a crack and the sun lounger fractures, not from your weight, but as a consequence of its decayed state. You jump up and the vessel leans alarmingly as it is buffeted by a large wave. Spray combines with driving rain as you scurry to the nearest door into the yacht to escape the storm that has appeared out of nowhere. You halt on the threshold and frown as your gaze sweeps over stained and tattered carpets. Paint peels on the walls and the ceiling has fallen in on one side. You call out my name but there is no reply. Concerned you move from room to room but find nobody. The crew have vanished. The kitchen is smeared with grease and dirt, rotting food has been left lying around. The bathrooms are grubby, the tiles cracked and the mirrors broken. You make your way around the yacht but the scene is similar everywhere you go. It is run down and dilapidated from long-term neglect.
The yacht tips and you hear plates smash as you make for the bridge of the vessel, increasingly concerned for your safety. The bridge is similarly deserted and you see the yacht’s wheel has been lashed in place causing the vessel to continue on a course into a mass of black clouds and forked lightning which you can see ahead despite the cracked glass in front of you. You reach for the radio but it has been smashed. There is a mobile ‘phone which you pick up in desperation. It will not allow you to dial any numbers however and will only permit you to call three pre-programmed numbers. The first displays the word “Coterie”. Somebody answers but all you can hear is the sound of celebrating, the noise of the party is deafening and your pleas for help are drowned out by the noise of excitement and reverie. The second reads “Lieutenants”. Again it is answered and you ask the person answering for help. You are told that they are busy and you got yourself into this situation so you will have to sort it out yourself. You try that number again and a different voice answers but it tells you that you are crazy to have sailed into a storm and they cannot help you. With fear and desperation rising you ring the final number and the word “Me” comes up on the display.
“Hello?” I answer.
“What’s happening? Where are you? I’m in trouble, something has happened to the yacht. Everything was fantastic but now, I don’t understand, it has all gone wrong and I am in the middle of a storm. It’s happened so fast, help me, please help me.”
“Head onto the deck,” I reply calmly and end the call.
You do as instructed and above the noise of the wind and the crashing waves you hear the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. You look up and see me controlling the winch as I lower a harness down to you. The yacht pitches and you lose your footing. You clamber back up and try to grasp the harness but I have begun to yank it back up away from you. Still clutching the mobile you call me again.
“Help me, please, send down the harness, I need your help.”
I begin to lower the harness again but as it nears and you try and grab it you feel a stinging sensation on your arm and draw it back. A weal is already forming from where the pellet has hit you. You look up and see me grinning as I wave the airgun at you. The harness is still in front of you and you try to grab it but another volley of pellets drives you back before the harness begins to rise again.
You call me a third time.
“Please, why are you doing this? I don’t understand. Help me, I will do anything, just get me off here.”
“Anything?” I answer.
“Yes, anything, just please, lift me off here.”
You look up as the harness begins to lower and I train my sights on you once again.
“Please don’t shoot at me, I don’t know what I have done, this yacht, it has turned into a nightmare,” you shout into the phone begging me.
“Didn’t you see the yacht’s name when you came aboard or were you too in awe of it?” I ask. You glance at one of the life rings and see the yacht’s name printed on it. You paid no heed to the name when you glanced at it when you first boarded the yacht as you were indeed taken in by its grandeur. As the yacht rolls and threatens to throw you off your feet, your eyes settle on the black letters on the red and white ring. They are unmistakable.
“Narcissist.”

Advertisements

 

 

JUST THE ONCE .BUT IT IS ENOUGH

Remember when you would wake up and reach for your mobile ‘phone and find that loving and uplifting message that I had sent you? I always rose before you and ensured that a delicious, tantalising text was sent to you ready for when you woke. Like a morning cup of tea on your night stand it was that little gesture which made you feel special. It told you that the first thing that I thought of when I woke up was you. This message of love, desire, passions and excitement would provide you with the first buzz of the day, a delicious reminder of how wonderful I am and how marvellous we are together. The first text of the deluge that would follow throughout the day, scores of little gift-wrapped presents which you open and smile, laugh and melt over. Little did you realise that these messages had been recycled from your predecessor and would be used again for your replacement. Little did you also realise that two other people were receiving these messages first thing in the morning.

Now there is nothing. There is no chime of that early morning text. There is no winking light denoting the text waiting for you to open it. It is silence. As your eyes open, the conditioning that I caused makes you immediately remember how you used to feel when that text arrived. Where once you woke with excitement in your stomach now it is just the sharp stab of pain as you know there is nothing waiting for you. You understand this is how it should be, the need to stay away from me, but it hurts. It hurts so much and how long will this pain remain with you? Will it ever go away? Those months of daily morning texts has ingrained a pattern and a longing inside you and no matter how hard you try the first thought of your day is always

“Four months ago he was still sending me those wonderful texts.” Last month it was the same sentence only it began with three. You roll on to your back and though you know you shouldn’t, you cannot help but allow me into your mind even further as you recall those mornings where we ended up late for week because of our passionate love-making. That quick dart to the en suite and then back into bed where I was waiting for you. You turn and look at the empty pillow and that all too familiar bitter sweet sensations sweeps across you. You know you should not do this. You know you ought now to seek refuge amongst the ghosts of once what was, but it makes the pain lessen, just for a while and it is just a memory isn’t it, thinking about me just the one time cannot do any harm can it? Just the one time. You give a twisted smile at that sentence which has somehow become your daily mantra as you struggle to escape the toxins that I have left inside you, the legacy of my oh so effective seduction and poisoning of you. Just the one time you check on my tweets and who is following me and who I am following. Just the one time you parked near where I lived and watched slumped in your driver’s seat to see who might appear at my door. Just the one time you sent a friend to watch me at an event you knew I would be attended and to report back on what she saw. Just the one time you re-read the e-mails I sent you. It was just the one time for them all and more, well one time a week then one time a day, but I dont know what you are doing do I, so where is the harm? Just the one time you return to my Facebook profile, scouring it, looking for clues like some desperate detective intent on tracking down the prolific killer. You check what I have liked, a picture here, a comment there, some meme about relationships which could be a dig at you but you are not sure. Any trace of you has been erased from my profile, gone are the messages, the comments and the pictures. Somebody else is there now, although there is some ambiguity. A red-headed woman appears in several pictures, laughing with me. You see one where her arms is draped around my shoulders and you feel the burning jealousy and anger and curse both you and I for this feeling. You fling your tablet to one side, muttering under your breath, just the one look having derailed your day before it has begun and vow not to look again. But you will. Just one look. A journey through the carousel of pictures, checking fingers to see if rings have appeared on them, of both me (it would be awful to see that rings on my wedding finger, something I always denied you) and of the women I pose with (it makes you feel sort of better if they wear a ring, that means that they won’t be with me, doesn’t it?)

You skulk amongst my twitter posts and return to my profile on my work website, reading the biography which you know off by heart. Your fingers rest on my profile picture as you see again the tie which you bought me for that particular photo shoot. Some days you wish it would be updated and then others days this once look makes you feel that perhaps I do not hate you, how can I if I still allow this picture to remain? You try not to think about me but somehow your mind just wanders there of its own volition, snaking through a thousand memories that spring up each day. Perhaps you will stay awhile amidst them, just the once minute of remembering. At the weekend you drove out to the forest path we used to amble along during sunny September mornings. Nobody else was ever there. Just you and I. You walked that path again, it was just the one time you needed to do it, to converse with the ghost of my presence as you found yourself talking aloud to me as if I was still walking beside you, holding your hand. It was meant to be just the one time but you have returned three times since, each time swearing that this time is when you exorcise those spectres.

What am I doing now? No doubt getting ready for work, perhaps showering and singing away as I once did in the shower we shared. Am I with somebody? Is somebody preparing breakfast for me or reclining in bed waiting for me to return to the bedroom towel draped about me? It seems so long since you have heard from me and so much remains unanswered, unsaid and unresolved. How would I react if you rang me? You cannot bring yourself to delete my number, just in case there was that one final conversation which could take place and put so many issues to bed, slay so many demons and close so many doors. That would all that it would take surely? Just the one conversation. Keep it business like, keep your emotions in check but just to get some answers so you can move on. Surely that is owed to you? You wonder whether I would answer if you rang me? How would I react if I saw your number on the display? You doubt I have blocked you, why would I do that? Your fingers toy with your phone, you need to know, just the once, just to make the hurt go away. You find my name. You want to hear my voice again, talk and no more but you feel anxious and the trepidation crawls over you. You need to know. You need the answers. What about ringing me and then stopping before I answer to see if I call back? Yes, that is a good idea, that would then show that I do want to talk to you, without the fear of having me hang up on you. That’s it. You will telephone me again after these months of nothing and let it ring and then this ever present agony can be eased. The questions can be answered when I call you back. You will not melt into my arms again. No, you are going to resist those sweet charms because you know what lies behind them. You have earned your stripes in that regard but you need to have this conversation, for yourself. You need to know I will talk to you. A text message isn’t immediate enough. I might not see it for some time or delay in replying, but a missed call, that brings a potential for urgency and immediacy and I am bound to respond to that aren’t I. You will call me. You will call and let it ring. Just the once.

But it is enough.

Enough for the ensnarement to continue.

THE TERRIBLE GAS LIGHTING TWENTY.png
You are familiar with gas lighting where we twist reality over and over again in order to create doubt. You begin to question yourself, doubt your recollection and feel like you are losing your sanity.

It is an insidious tactic and one which we always use in order to destabilise you and maintain our control and the upper hand. We change history, re-write what has happened and we will do so even when faced with what you think is incontrovertible truth and evidence. Our confidence and certainty in the way we approach this, combined with the patronising appearance of caring about your tired and failing mind is especially bewildering. Our aim is to cause you to question your reality so you much more readily accept the false reality that we create and operate in.

The Greater Narcissist consciously does this. We know what we are doing, why we are doing it and want the outcome of fuel and control – it is a calculated response on our part. Our narcissism compels this behaviour and our increased awareness allows us to plan it and revel in its success as we witness its impact on you. We know it is regarded as wrong, but we do not care and we see it is as necessary and justified to achieve our aims.

The Lesser and Mid-Range Narcissists do not calculate. It is an instinctive response borne out of their altered perspective. Their narcissism compels this behaviour although they do not see that they are doing anything wrong – indeed, their narcissism causes them to see what they are doing as a natural response to the antagonistic behaviours of the victim. It is the victim who is the problem, who is twisting reality and being awkward. The Lesser or Mid Range Narcissist truly believes their response is correct, right and justified  – it is the victim who is manipulating, going mad or is forgetful and misremembering.

Here are twenty of our favourite phrases which are used to gas light you and in some instances allied with other forms of manipulation.

“It never happened.”

(Denial)

“You are lying.”

(Projection/Blameshifting)

“You imagined it.”

(Denial/Blameshifting)

“You haven’t remembered it correctly.”

(Blameshifting)

“Yes, you did do it because I remember distinctly.”

(Blameshifting/Assertion of Superiority)

“Are you calling me a liar?”

(Insult)

“If I look for it you had better hope I don’t find it. Oh, what’s this? Just where I said it would be.”

(Threat/Triangulation)

“I never told you to do that, why would I ever say that?”

(Denial)

“Your dad wouldn’t do that to you.”

(Triangulation)

“You are suffering from delusions, I think we need a doctor for you.”

(Projection/Triangulation/Insult)

“You like to cause an argument out of nothing don’t you?”

(Projection)

“You twist my words, I did not mean it like that.”

(Blameshifting)

“You never told me that at all, I would have remembered.”

(Blameshifting/Assertion of Superiority)

“Nobody likes you, they’ve all told me this.”

(Insult/Triangulation)

“You need help, it is caused by your anger problem.”

(Insult/Blameshifting/Projection)

“Why are you inventing things again? You are such an attention seeker.”

(Projection)

“That never happened.”

(Denial)

“Dear me, you always make things up, you’ve done it ever since you were a child.”

(Projection/Triangulation)

“We are just friends, you are reading too much into it.”

(Triangulation)

“That couldn’t possibly have hurt you, why are you saying it did?”

(Invalidation)

H.G Tudor - Exorcism e-book cover

The narcissist may be physically gone but his or her influence remains and it hurts. Whether you have escaped the narcissist or you have been cruelly discarded, the period thereafter is difficult, worrying and painful.

Why can’t you move on?

Why do you keep thinking about them?

How can we exert such a hold over you for months afterwards?

Why can’t you get him or her out of your mind?

Why do you see them everywhere you look? Why does it feel like he or she is still buried deep in your heart?

.Most importantly of all, what can you do to get rid of this feeling?

This is the answer. Through the narcissist’s perspective you will understand why you have been infected, why it is so effective and how you can successfully exorcise the narcissist from your heart and soul

US e-book here

UK e-book here

CAN e-book here

AUS e-book here