 “At the name of {narcissism} each one of the children felt something jump…inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.” Ah, forgive me for paraphrasing the great C. S. Lewis from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. But that’s how it is when you first learn about “narcissism,” isn’t it? You either feel liberated…or angry.
That moment came and went for my Family-of-Origin this week when they finally found my website and blogs. Oh, it took them ages to find it. Their uncharacteristic lack of curiosity was most vexing. But they finally found it. Click here to read the whole story!
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 As a child, I felt loved for what I did but not for who I authentically was.
Because of this, parental correction and discipline was excruciatingly painful. It brought on full narcissistic collapse. This is the feeling that you’re less than nothing. Don’t deserve life. Are the lowest human on Earth. Are worth less than shit. Have no basis upon which to make eye contact with another human, let alone stand up to them. I spent many hours curled up in the fetal position, sobbing my eyes out. Full Narcissistic Collapse. Was I “defensive” as my parents called it? Absolutely! Fighting to be OK. I was fighting for my life. Read Confessions of an Ex-Narcissist by clicking here!  It was Mom who taught me the Granny Two-Step. She’d been polishing her dance steps since her birth. She had to…if she wanted to be loved and accepted by her mother.
Disclaimer: The Granny Two-Step is predicated on lying, clairvoyance, being intimidated, greed and “to thine own self being untrue.” Dance at your own risk! Want to learn it!? Okay, okay! You twisted my arm! Maestro? Music, if you please! Up on your toes now. Step forward gracefully, one step at a time, threading your way gingerly through conversation with Grandma. Your clairvoyance at fever pitch. Your intuition trembling like a cat’s whisker, sensitive to the most subtle (but usually blatant) judgmentalism emanating from Grandma. Ooops! Said the wrong thing! Hit a Grandma Land Mine (GLM)! Quick! Take two-steps backwards, bowing from the waist, clumsily backtracking and trying to convincingly eating your words to get back into Grandma’s good graces. Her opinion of you is paramount. Authenticity be damned! Now, up on your toes again. Take another step forward. Damn! Said the wrong thing again! Hit another GLM. Two steps backwards, kissing Grandma’s ass. And that, my dears, is how you dance the Granny Two-Step! To read the whole article, click here! Believe me...it gets better! http://blogs.psychcentral.com/narcissism/2016/02/narcissistic-granny-dancing-the-granny-two-step-pt-2-of-3/  Beware the religious narcissist.
They speak with the omniscient voice of God. Wield the sword of His judgment. Brandish the rod of His power. They wear the mantle of His righteousness. They goin’ straight to Heaven, baby. And you, you back-slidden heathen? Well, you ain’t! Exploitation of Holy Scripture is at its finest when you give a narcissist a Bible. In fact, all cult leaders have narcissistic tendencies. You can take it to the bank! My narcissists “got religion” in 1980. Or so they claimed. Uh huh, whatever. Read all about it here! http://blogs.psychcentral.com/narcissism/2016/01/religious-narcissist-cult/  Since when did narcissists ever play fair?
You quote their words exactly and they weasel out of them. They misquote and twist your words, then judged you for what you never said, thought, wrote nor meant. But that’s narcissistic clairvoyance for ya’. They know you better than you know you! When you’re dealing with narcissists, there’s the “Official Story” and the “Truth.” And never shall the twain meet. Click here to read all about what I learned from tangling with a religious narcissist!  Narcissists have mean, nasty tongues. Duh! Unfortunately, the social convention of “niceness” puts a cramp in their style.
Plan B: Couch the meanness in humor. It’s called teasing. Now they can be as mean as they want, with plausible deniability. They ain’t dun nuthin’. You’re just too sensitive. Click here to read the full article!  Finally, someone is speaking out for the millions of caretakers worldwide.
The ones who vicariously suffer, deep in their hearts, as they watch their loved one's cringe with pain, day after day, year after year. The wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters who silently scream because they just can't handle the stress, the worry, the workload any longer. The long-suffering, smiley caretakers with the perfect bedside manner on the verge of burnout. There was a time when I wanted to scream too. The pain of watching my husband cope with Level 10 physical pain each and every day was emotionally unbearable. Physical pain can be treated with medications and pain killers. But what eases the pain in the heart of the caregiver who witnesses their loved one suffer, day in and day out? It's lonely, traumatizing and totally triggered my codependence. I wrote about this experience in the Huffington Post article entitled, The Secret Pain of Caretakers, in the hopes it will help other caregivers feel less alone, validated and comforted. Click here to subscribe to receive daily updates on new articles! Follow @lenorathewriter on Twitter! Become a fan on HuffPost and check out my new blog on PsychCentral! Click here to read The Secret Pain of Caretakers!  I’ve got the leakiest tear ducts on the planets. Seems like I’m always sniffling about this or weeping about that. If it’s not adorable videos of babies making my eyes well up, it’s videos of ecstatic dogs welcoming their master home from serving overseas. Any sentimental YouTube video can get me hullabalooing into my hankie in no time. It came as quite a shock to my husband when we married in 2012. Now he thinks I’m both hysterical funny and extremely soft-hearted. There’s only one scenario where my tear ducts dry up. My own pain. I simply cannot cry for myself. Tried it. Made all the right noises. Huffed and puffed. Nothin’. Eyes remained dry as a bone. And it’s a huge problem. Tears aren’t just salty water. Their chemical compositions vary depending on the emotion that stimulated them. Even their structure when seen under a microscope is vastly different depending on the scenario. Personally, I can feel my heart aching behind my eyes. It’s a kind of burning, kind of pressurized sensation behind my eyeballs. Only tears release the pain in both my eyes and my heart. It feels like tears purge the toxic chemicals in the tears, but perhaps I’m just being fanciful. Which brings us back to the original problem. I can’t cry. And too often my original pain becomes translated into the secondary emotion of anger. Click here to read the whole article on PsychCentral!   WOW! I'm overwhelmed by all the "Me Too's" in your comments on my blogs this week. And now, thousands more can join our ranks in healing from narcissistic abuse together. Introducing "Narcissism Meets Normalcy" on Psych Central.
Click here to read my introductory blog! Be sure to subscribe to receive daily updates by email! blogs.psychcentral.com/narcissism/ |