From insults to anger

Some might think it low emotional intelligence or even arrogance, but, I fear, it is just straight forward black-belt narcissism:  the reason I have such great faith in the concept of making amends.

Expecting forgiveness – especially when it suits you – is an audacity so contemptuous, so vile that normal people experience it as heinous.

In the past two days, two people have voluntarily (and unwittingly) told me how good I am with words (you see the narcissism there?) so when I insult people I do so with a creative gusto which often renders my victims speechless.

And speechless would be one thing, but my words also evaporate my victim’s feelings towards me until completely null and void.

Very often this consequence meets my flabbergasted surprise. Alas, my superpowers once again demolished even more than I had intended.  Despite the annoyance and the desperate dash to fix things which inevitably follow, I always secretly marvel for a moment at the ruins of human feelings flattened at my feet.

Over the years I have learnt, or I should say, developed an anticipation for the slowly surfacing sense that I have once again crossed a line in a manner which cannot be undone. I.e. I have spectacularly fucked up.

For a long time, my covert narcissistic defence to the hostility was simply being incredulous.

How could what I say, possibly, be so upsetting when I am so unimportant?
And if I’m not unimportant, should my complaints not be met with ardent discussion, rather than rage?

Aren’t you overreacting a tad?

 

My most arrogant rationalisation: The anger directed at me, would never have existed if my victim did not care very deeply … I should be flattered. (Alas, often I’ve been exactly that – flattered right up to the point of damning shame.) The overly emotional victim will eventually come to his/her senses and calm down, as they should.

I was, after all, justified in venting my frustration which you certainly created.

(There is always oh so much which I don’t say.)

Not that we like conflict. Well, I really don’t. 

 

Thus the adage, none as blind as those who won’t see.

 

Of course, I never did think of myself as an evil person. (Here I laugh in parenthesis.)

In fact, I take great pride in being of help to others, sometimes leaving hardly a stone unturned – such is my stubbornness – in fixing any problem completely devoid of a connection to me.

Believe me, I am incredibly tempted to tell you just how hard it is for me to keep quiet, to behave when I have so much to express and feel such an uncontrollable urge to audibly phrase my flagitious art.

 

***

 

It took many years in therapy before I came to see this abysmal cruelty within myself.

 

Refraining from its practice will take the rest of my life.

 

 

***

I often feel every bit as depressed as the entire Great Depression, I routinely kick at boundaries and I’ve developed a phobia for frames.

 

Today I received some unexpected help in this quest.

 

Foolishly, self-appreciatively, I ventured into the path of one I had never managed to fool in albeit a few previous attempts. My former failures in this regard angered me and I had responded with particular incendiary.

Tonight, I hang my tattered shirt as a flag on my wall to remind me of how I was cut to pieces this morning. A lesson I really want to remember – in the dim hope of being a better person.

Easily trapped, I was shredded by the gleaming blade of a question — one to which there was, in the situation, no right answer. In this memory, I reserve a special place for how I was childishly about to defend myself only to realise the defeat was complete and, like a prisoner, speaking would just have made it far worse.

And as I surrendered, a final few sentences penetrated the inner sanctuary of my narcissistic fantasy … As much as I will resolutely fight to prove some of those repulsive suggestions wrong, it was the words laced with some really good advice which left me most defenceless —there is kindness in wisdom — even when presented in ice cold, cruel words, seconds before I was graciously shown the door for the second time less than a month.

This must be the ultimate testament to the elasticity of arrogance: I’m quite proud of how well I took it, I showed no emotion and did not fall into the trap of trying to defend myself.

***

Let me be clear, I’m no authority on the subject. I love believing there’s a narcissist within every one of us. What the fuck else do you think I can bring myself to accept?

With this said, narcissists – at least in as far as we all suffer this affliction – don’t make amends, we appease you to stop being angry with us because your anger is inconvenient, annoying and serves us no purpose. We consider ourselves heroes when we have to make some small sacrifice to achieve amends. We expect you to be grateful.

Forgiveness is reserved for us alone. You are expected to forgive us. Otherwise, you are unreasonable and cruel. We are people too. We never need to forgive you, because we will hurt so badly and taunt you so much that the scenario is always reversed.

Lastly, 3 points:
  • Thanks to you who kindly made me cringe under your cruelty today. Since I don’t want to believe in my flaws, I choose to believe I can improve. But your points are duly noted.
  • To others, you have the option of keeping us at arm’s length – which should be easy enough. We’ve never really liked other people anyway … Or else, off is the general direction in which it will be best for you to fuck.
  •  This entry is mere opinion and not based on diagnosis.
It might eloquently insist on being Santa Clause, but it isn’t even the Easter Bunny. Don’t think the patient hasn’t noticed how much you also really, really like yourself. 

 

 

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