.....????? What is that.... ???? I often say: "someone who has been in more than one plane crash, and survived". It's rather interesting that my disability is not only misunderstood, but not understood. I'm problem is not my mental illness,... Continue Reading →
In therapy today we touched on the weird inner world of the pathological narcissist.
The one that swiped my Flickr group has opened a WordPress account
to fave my blog entries.
I recognized her face from the Psycho looking selfie she uses as an avatar.
You see, It’s like the ending of Psycho
I said to my therapist, “I don’t follow her. In fact, because of my DID, I’ve mostly forgotten her.”
I know who she is and why we don’t speak but those memories are like the memories of a group of snapshots.
If you hurt me, I mostly forget you.
“So why is she doing this?” I asked. “To get attention?”
“You see, it’s like the ending of Psycho,” replied my therapist. “Norman is gone and what’s left is his malignant narcissist of a Mother who thinks that not killing the fly will…
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A concrete picnic enclosure on Venice Beach; abandoned except for a weathered old man on a picnic table rolling cigarettes.
A faded tattoo of a sword wrapped in a ribbon on his forearm, the words on the ribbon merge together in blue curlicues, like the blue veins that criss-cross his swollen nose.
He says his name is Eddie.
Eddie has selectively gathered cigarette butts since dawn.
He has searched in and around the enclosure and is now ready to roll a few butts for the day.
Boys on skateboards zip through.
A photographer wanders in and snaps a picture of Eddie as he teases tobacco into a rusty can.
Eddie flicks away the yellow filters.
Pigeons scurry over to peck them.
He rolls two thin cigarettes and lays them out to dry; I offer him one of mine, and he gently declines, “I have enough” he says.
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In this post I use ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ because my subjective experience is that of multiple separate people.
The children of pathological narcissists must blind themselves to behaviors that healthy people consider unspeakable.
Food deprivation, the theft of money, a lack of boundaries, triangulated relationships in which the child must either see the other parent as an enemy or hate the other parent outright, contempt for the achievements of others, the competitive behavior of a child, and the threat of psychological annihilation.
For the narcissist the worst crime is independent thought.
The child has no needs of his own.
He must have no dreams, and no vision of life without the clinging demands of a parent or parent surrogate who is essentially a two-year old with no insight.
The psychological death-blow is that the child must never surpass the parent.
My Mother despised my intelligence and…
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One day the little boy and the skeleton were dancing.
The Skeleton tripped over the trunk that the little boy used as a seat.
The Skeleton fell very hard. His legs and his skull cracked.
The little boy quickly gathered as many pieces as he could find and laid them in a shaft of dusty Sunlight that came through the window.
The Skeleton sighed. “I shall have to go back to being a dead skeleton.”
The little boy cried and kissed the fresh crack in the skeletons forehead.
When his lips touched the skull it became fleshy and warm.
The little boy was overjoyed: You’re a real person now! You’re OK!.
“No,” the skeleton replied, “You’re kiss and tears gave my last moments true life. When you leave the attic I will be gone and you must never return. But you will remember this moment so that when you meet…
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