Valentine Venom – Part One

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There are many advantages to being the Ultra Narcissist. One of those advantages is the ability to control one’s ignited fury.  Total control of that ignited fury has proven, so far, elusive, but we do maintain significant control over it. Accordingly, whereas the Lesser Narcissist will erupt with heated fury when wounded – he tells his partner she is an ugly, lazy whore because she has not brought him his dinner when he wanted it – the Greater will often keep it under control. We remain wounded, but obtain the fuel required to address the wound in an alternative manner and keep that harsh, vicious ignited fury under control.

For an alternative time.

Those that wound us and do not receive an immediate application of ignited fury will not escape forever. Yes, they may have been spared the vitriolic verbal volley or evaded the icy glare and accompanying silent treatment to whichever manipulation we seek to apply, but we will punish them. A mental note is made and righteous retribution will be exacted. Always.

Valentine’s Day provides an array of opportunities to make good on that need to punish.

Today has been no exception.

A few weeks ago, a lady, Gillian, who is the head of a particular department within the business, saw fit to vote against a proposal. My proposal. She was outvoted and my proposal was adopted. The other voters evidently people of sound minds and forward vision. But not her. Her opposition lacked any intellectual rigour, was devoid of financial prudence and valid business opportunities were absent. No, it was evident to me that her opposition was founded on wanting to make my life difficult, to flick two fingers in my direction and to seek to derail my proposals.

This was the  third such transgression on her part. I had maintained my control over my ignited fury on the previous two occasions and did so on this third occasion also. I must admit however that this took some considerable discipline as I watched her raise her hand in objection and have the audacity to look in my direction also as she did so. Utter impertinence. I met her gaze with unflinching emptiness even though I was picturing her well-appointed apartment being engulfed in flames with her screaming for  help in the middle of the inferno. I sneered at her resistance but inside I felt the presence of the yawning chasm and the sensation of falling towards it. This is the effect of the wounding. I was sat in the boardroom and her failure to agree, her deliberate refusal to back my proposal, her defiance and intransigence was telling me that my plan was not good enough.

Not good enough.

Those three words which had been almost a slogan for my childhood. Not good enough.

She was just like all the others. Unreliable, treacherous, a traitor and not to be trusted. Not to be trusted a third time as she had now proven.

Three words. Not good enough. Just like she always said to me. She was just like her, seeking to ruin my world, seeing to govern me, seeking to control me. I am not to be controlled. I am the controller.

As these thoughts tumbled towards the waiting void, the fury then made its  presence felt. Reliable fury. Always there, ready to drive back the wicked transgressors. I felt its first surge as the fury arose, driving back the sensation of falling caused by the thoughts of those three words.

Instead, another three words replaced them. Victoria aut morte – victory or death. Another part of the Tudor family legacy, but one I would readily embrace. It must be victory, always victory. The fury continued to rise, banishing any suggestion of weakness – one must never be weak (“No tears HG, no tears” as she always warned). There are never any tears – well not mine anyway.

The presence of my fury urged me to put this impudent underling in her place. I continued to stare at her and as she lowered her hand she continued to defy me, eyes still locked on mine.

I wanted to annihilate her there and then, verbally shred her stance and humiliate her, leave her quivering with rage or even better reduced to tears of impotence in the boardroom and then drink of that delicious fuel to address her wounding of me. This would then abate my fury. I wanted to rip apart her weak analysis, round on her department’s shortcomings and make her responsible, I wanted to demonstrate to the other heads that she was not fit for purpose and land blow upon blow upon blow.

But this was not the time. A savage (albeit accurate) outburst would be frowned upon. It would detract from the force of the proposal. It might swing waverers against me. It might damage prospects. I felt the words forming in my mouth, ready to spit venomously in her direction, but I kept my mouth closed. Fighting to contain the fury but as it burned and blazed, it dragged down my fuel level. Her wounding and this control of my fury, with no fuel being forthcoming would cause my fuel levels to plummet and this would enable the void to appear once again and this time only more so and with that the risk of it making its presence known.

I was aware of the hands being raised in favour of my proposal and those acts of support, of approval and validation provided fuel. Several lines of fuel pumped my way from the non-intimate secondary sources that approved my scheme.

“HG’s proposal is approved and will be implemented with immediate effect, well done HG, excellent work,” announced the chair of the meeting. More fuel.

“Yes, well done,” commented somebody else. More fuel.

A hand patted my shoulder in affirmation. More fuel.

The wound was closing. I maintained my gaze and then she looked down and there it was. I saw the disappointment in those brown eyes of hers. I saw the downturned mouth and the frown. She was trying to hide her dismay but failing. Her instinctive response of defeat was evident to see. Her body slightly slumped in response, her arrogant stiffness eroded and all of this provided me with more fuel.

I felt the effect of her wounding fade, the positive fuel manifesting from my successful proposal and her negative fuel from defeat tackling the wound and thus the fury abated. I had maintained control. I had not fallen to the void. I had had triumphed over her rebellion. I had not erupted and damaged a variety of other considerations.

I had carried the day.

But this was the third act of wounding by her in recent weeks.

Three wounds.

Three words.

She had  to be punished and today was that day……

To be continued


14 thoughts on “Valentine Venom – Part One

  1. Violetta says:

    HG, you were pretty subtle, compare this, which was supposedly an accident:

    Per an article on Valentine’s Day fails (including dead flowers, cards going Ng to the wrong people, etc.):

    “One person said their thoughtful pal tried to send them Famous Amos cookies but instead they received Clorox Toilet Wand Refills in the mail.”

    There is a picture here:

  2. Dr.House says:

    I recently talked to my wife’s psychiatrist, telling him what she’s been doing, that her father is probably a malignant narc and she displays those traits too and to please help me somehow as Im desperate, especially as she using my little son to get to me, by upsetting him. Also displays of sudden aggression, I think she is shooting up Adderrall. or how do you know it’s only the narc and not drugs.
    she is at least a mid range narc, not sure if there is a higher covert narc. ( she loves to play victim)
    I feel she is feeling the heat. Last week she put on a cry , cry poor me show that would deserve an Oscar. I didn’t react.
    Yesterday on Valentine’s Day she upsets my son, again, I ask her to apologize, she turns it and starts saying see what you did! And why I’m not leaving this marriage which is obviously not working. I said , I will never leave. She said do you think that this is working out? I said I’m fine. If it’s so bad you just get divorce, and stop making empty threats.
    She continued to say she would buy me a plane ticket to home.
    I left the room.
    What are your thoughts?

    Ps. I off course didn’t get her anything for Valentines days!

    Also in a creepy moment she said to me that she is a nice person with no bad intentions, but feels a hostility from me.

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Use this and you will get the definitive answer.

      1. DrHouse says:

        Hi, the Link you gave me doesn’t work. Could you please help me?

        1. HG Tudor says:

          Hi Dr House, too slow my friend, you must have been busy on your rounds, the page has moved. Use this link from the knowledge vault to find a plethora of material

  3. Dorion says:

    I liked this and wish you would write more often about how you/the narcissist operate at work, what goes on in their head. I find it interesting that you link this with Valentine’s Day – why?

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Read part two then

      1. Dorion says:

        I have. I figured it out right at the beginning, before getting explicit about the V-Day aspect, what you/narcs have done… But interesting regardless. I must say that I have seen many such banters at work, including the conference…khmm.. I won’t cite your term for it 🙂 Will say that I had participated in the conference thing quite a bit in my youth, it was part of my favorite things about professional conferences in my 20s and early 30s. Also, my field does not celebrate V-Day at the workplace at all, people never direct their fuel there, but I can easily see that occurring more in a traditional corporate setting, so not hard to imagine. Thanks HG.

        1. HG Tudor says:

          You are welcome.

  4. Christopher Jackson says:

    I remember my narcissist telling me when I use to cry because of things that he used to say to me…he would say ” you better suck that shit up right’re always crying why you crying for man I dont get it…no no dont you do that dont you even fucking dare start” or he would start smurking like it was funny to him I remember him feeling utter disgust. Very good peice hg by the way bitch doesn’t know who she is fucking with now does she??? Or will she in the near future..I cant see

    1. Witch says:

      I absolutely hate people who think like that.
      That’s why so many men turn to alcohol or commit suicide because they aren’t allowed to process their feelings.

      1. WhoCares says:

        Or men self-blame, get re-ensnared thinking there is something wrong with them and they just need to work on their “anger management” and go through life wondering why they are constantly depressed.

  5. Hope says:

    Happy Valentine’s Day! Thank you for sharing your insight and creating this encyclopedia of knowledge for us to access. I’m so grateful to understand more about this illusion of love. I had fallen prey to it many times and understanding helps take it’s power away from over me so I can make better choices for myself. Thank you for giving us fuller perspective and empowering us.

    1. HG Tudor says:

      You are welcome.

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