“As children, we never chose what to believe or not to believe. We didn’t choose our religion or moral values, or any concept at all. But we agreed with these beliefs, and once we agreed it was stored in our memory.” – Don Miguel Ruiz
I have to preface this post with a BIG thank you to my friend Dawn over at Morse Musings for providing me with this quote. It couldn’t be more perfect. Thanks Dawn!
1 + 1 = 2
This was most likely our first math problem. We were not born knowing the answer. We learned it. At first we practiced by holding up one finger on one hand and one finger on the other hand and counting them. One….Two. We probably continued to solve this math problem by counting for some time before it finally became indelibly etched in our brains. We do not remember the struggle to learn the answer but the knowledge of that answer will never be forgotten. It was the first building block. We went on to learn more complex math problems but it all started with this one. Once we mastered this problem we stored the answer in our brains as the absolute truth and never questioned it again.
And so it goes with everything we learned as children. We may not immediately recall how or what we learned but we learned the building blocks to everything we now believe when we were young, most of it from our parents. Once we learned something and came to accept it as the absolute truth, we never questioned it again.
As an example, growing up with two narcissistic and abusive parents, I learned that I was bad. Not that I did bad things but that I was bad. Not worthy of love, affection, respect and deserving of abuse at the hands of my own parents. I learned to rely on the stingy scraps of praise I was given for a job well done, or at least for a job not horribly botched. I learned that just to avoid being hit, called horrible names, snide comments, cruel “jokes” and being screamed at, I had to be hyper-vigilant and never ever screw up anything. To make a mistake brought the wrath and rejection of my parents. To do well got me neutral and sometimes even positive feedback from them.
I had to do more, be better and not do anything to garner their disapproval just to attempt to gain what little comfort I found in a day or even a few hours that passed without any abuse. As children do, I saw my parents as all-powerful and believed that they tried to love me but that I was just constantly failing and falling short of their expectations. The knowledge that I was only worthy of a pat on the back or at least worthy of being spared from abuse when I was doing something well was the absolute truth. I forgot many of the instances that taught me this lesson but the lesson remains.
And so this is where my debilitating fear of failure, of making any mistakes, comes from. The point of bringing this up is not to whine about my childhood or blame my parents for my problems. It is to clearly see the reality of what I believe about myself and question it. Where did it come from? When the answer to that question is unknown I can be certain that it came from my childhood lessons. I know then that I must challenge that particular “absolute truth”, retrace my steps, figure out how I learned the lesson, discard it as untrue and learn a new, healthy, realistic lesson about myself to replace the outdated one.
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“To say it in one sentence: For the narcissist lying is fun and a tool, and anybody who doesn’t lie is a fool in the eyes of the narcissist. Trying to communicate with a narcissist is therefore pointless.” – Dr. Ludger Hofmann-Engl
I jumped online tonight to visit all my usual spots for information on narcissists. Instead I decided to just do a google search for “narcissist lies” and landed on Dr. Ludger Hofmann-Engl’s site. He wrote exactly what I was looking for in the last sentence of this page (italics are mine):
Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Lies
When dealing with a narcissist (or a person with borderline), we face one major problem, and this is the narcissist’s attitude towards lying.
While the majority of people will have learned that not only that lying brings about devastation and destruction, it ultimately leads to total isolation and loneliness. This is, it hinders any sincere communication and hence the narcissist will find her/himself increasingly on the outside and excluded.
However, as much as the narcissist notices this isolation and reacts with increasing panic, it does not bring about a modification of the narcissist’s coping strategy.
The attitude of the narcissist towards lying is very childish and simple: If the narcissist lies and gets away with it, (s)he interprets this as being clever and superior to others. In this sense, while common sense clearly sees lying as a social ill, the narcissist views lying as an excellent tool to obtain what (s)he wants and as a means to demonstrate how stupid others are.
A person now, who wishes to engage in real communication and shows openness will be viewed by the narcissist as an utter fool who deserves to be exploited. Willingness to communicate and to show openness will be seen be the narcissist as weakness and stupidity.
When dealing with a narcissist, extreme care must be taken and events need to be recorded. It also is important to communicate with others who have to deal with the narcissist in order to counter-act splitting. This is, the narcissist uses lies in order to set up people against each other. In general, this is quite simple: The narcissist tells a person A that person B doesn’t like person A and the same the other way round. This then prevents A from talking to B and hence both parties can be manipulated through the narcissist’s lies.
While a normal person will be embarrassed when found out lying, not so the narcissist. The narcissist will see this as a threat to her/his superiority and will straight away think of ways of how to overcome this threat and this is by forming new lies.
To say it in one sentence: For the narcissist lying is fun and a tool, and anybody who doesn’t lie is a fool in the eyes of the narcissist. Trying to communicate with a narcissist is therefore pointless.
I had actually started to believe that possibly my mother was no longer a narcissist. This happens to everyone involved with one of these individuals. Over. And over. And over. This is why most experts and anyone who has escaped from a relationship with one of them usually strongly advise that once you determine that someone is a narcissist, you have no further contact.
I have confirmation. She has not been magically cured. It’s been so long since I’ve had any issues with her that I believed she had changed. It is me that has changed. There I go again handing all my power right back to her.
She’s a fanatic about safety. Seriously obsessive. My son’s bus stop is two houses away from ours. She stands out in the driveway just watching him until the bus comes each morning. It’s creepy. My son has told me it creeps him out. Early last week I asked her to stop because it’s embarrassing.
Today she told me that she asked him if it bothered him to have her stand in the driveway and that he said no. She also mentioned that she had asked him if it was embarrassing to him for her to wave at him while he was at the bus stop and he said no. I thought nothing of this except that I must have misunderstood my son when he and I had talked about it, shrugged my shoulders and said, “ok”. I thought it was sort of odd that she felt the need to tell me such mundane details but I got busy making dinner and forgot all about this conversation.
At dinner, my sons were both telling me about their day and told me a funny story about their grandmother trying to figure out the remote. Since she was now the topic of conversation, my 11 year old remembered overhearing the conversation between my mother and I from earlier. He said that she never asked him if standing in the driveway was embarrassing, only if waving to him was embarrassing.
I immediately jumped to the conclusion that she just forgot their conversation. She is getting older. This is a perfectly logical conclusion when dealing with a normal person. My son wanted to know why she would say that she had asked him something that she hadn’t. That’s when it hit me. The lies. Narcissists lie for sport, for no apparent reason at all. They also lie to protect their precious images and to get what they want. She lied because she didn’t want me to think she was embarrassing my son and she wants to continue to stand in the driveway to watch him without me insisting that she stop.
I realize that this sounds like a petty, minor detail that can easily truly be a misunderstanding. I know better when dealing with a narcissist. It’s not petty or minor at all. I’ve lived within a web of these types of petty, minor lies and great big lies my whole life. They all eventually add up to low self-worth, confusion and therapy. I told my son the truth.
I was searching online to try and figure out if I should even bother confronting her about this. I knew before I found my answer that she would just claim ignorance, say that I must have misunderstood her or that she must have misunderstood him, and turn it around by asking me why I’m overreacting and making a big deal over nothing. Typical manipulative behavior. “Trying to communicate with a narcissist is therefore pointless.”. Thank you for the reminder Doctor.
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“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.” — Elbert Hubbard
One of my biggest obstacles in life continues to be my fear of making mistakes. When I make a mistake I don’t normally just shake it off. I know everyone makes mistakes and that I am far from perfect. The problems are that I beat myself up and worry about all the possible outcomes that could result from my mistake.
If I make a mistake at work, I consider the possibility that my mistake will cost the company money or cost them a customer. I consider the possibility that I suck at my job in general, or that someone else may come to that conclusion. I consider the possibility that anyone above me or involved in the transaction will be angry. I consider the possibility that I will be fired. Then I consider all the possible short and long term ramifications of losing my job. It goes on and on and on. Endless and pointless worrying. All over one mistake.
I made a mistake on Friday. In the grand scheme of things, it’s really not a big deal at all. At the time I came pretty close to a full blown panic attack. I talked myself down since I’ve come to recognize these self-destructive thought patterns. The next day though, when hubby expressed his displeasure over my mistake, it started all over again. He apologized and I talked myself down again. What’s interesting about this mistake was the overwhelming need for me to fix it. Immediately. Even though there is no true urgency and it is in fact, a better idea to wait a few days.
I was going to wash a mask off my face. I plugged the upstairs sink and turned the water on. The phone rang. I ran into the other room to get the phone and planned on running right back to the sink. It was a work related call and I got distracted. The call didn’t last more than a few minutes but that was enough time for the sink to overflow, run out of the bathroom and into our bedroom, soaking a small spot of the carpeting. More importantly, the water had time to run into the heating vent on the bathroom floor and onto the downstairs ceiling, leaving a rather large and horribly ugly brown spot.
Of course I should have turned the water off when I ran to get the phone. This was not my finest hour.
As I said I managed to talk myself down. I initially said all sorts of horrible things to myself. It’s never just, “that was a bad idea, action or decision”. It’s, “I’m a bad, stupid or inept person”. Then I remembered that everyone makes mistakes and that as far as home improvement projects go, this wouldn’t be the worst project to have to tackle. I hate painting and may end up having to paint the ceilings in several downstairs rooms since they are all connected. But I also may not have to do all that. It may look ok with some primer and “feathering” of the paint. I looked all this up online to find out how to best handle it and it may end up being a much smaller job than originally anticipated by either me or my husband.
I wanted to tackle this on Saturday. I felt strongly that it must be fixed immediately. Hubby pointed out that it did not have to be done this weekend. My brother-in-law pointed out that it would be best to wait to make sure it’s completely dry.
Why did I feel such a sense of urgency? To cover it up. To make it go away. Literally. If there is no evidence of the mistake than I can stop feeling bad about it. I can take my tail from between my legs and stop beating myself up.
How absurd. It’s ugly. It’s going to be a pain in the ass. But it’s not life-threatening or even particularly expensive. I made a mistake. There is proof. That proof may stay with us for a little while constantly reminding me of my mistake. I think that may actually be a good thing. I need to get used to the idea that the world isn’t going to end every time I make a mistake. Maybe others do too.
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“Tradition is the illusion of permanence.” — Woody Allen
I’m breaking with my usual tradition of parent-bashing after my mother clearly demonstrated to me today that on some level, she does get me. She may not approve or agree with everything I do or say but it does appear that she can sometimes at least see who I am.
Our family has a time honored tradition of using humor to diffuse uncomfortable, painful and awkward situations. I know this tradition is not unique to my family but it is truly the one thread that binds us. My father was the ringleader of this coping mechanism and he taught his daughters well. My mother is a lot more reserved, particularly in public, but she usually does laugh at our shenanigans even if only to not feel left out.
My hubby is a bit more like my mother in this respect. He’s reserved in public but laughs with (at) us most of the time. I sometimes think he secretly wishes we’d just shut up once we really get going. My sister’s hubby is completely on board with us. In fact I think he’s helped us take our game to the next level. Our specialty is inappropriate humor and more specifically, inappropriate humor at inappropriate times or occasions. We have had several conversations that began with, “Remember what you said at that funeral…”. The more twisted the better. Nothing is sacred. There are no boundaries.
I don’t know when it began but one of us must have decided that confessing to things we got away with when we still lived at home during Thanksgiving dinner was a wonderful tradition. We do it every year. I’m actually trying to come up with something for this year. I only have a few weeks left. The pressure is on. We try to out-do each other and the more shocking to my mother, the better.
Today when I came home from work my sister’s car was in front of my house. My mom watches my sons before and after school so I expected her to be here and she was. My sister being here was not at all traditional and I was actually slightly alarmed. The first thought that popped into my head (I did mention twisted, right?!) was that they were doing an intervention. On me. But the only thing I could think of that would require an intervention was blogging. Of course when I came into the house there was no intervention. She had gotten off work early so just came over to hang out. When I half-jokingly said I was afraid it was an intervention my sister said, “Yes it is. For blogging.”. We truly do share a brain.
My mother just laughed at us but said it reminded her of a sign that she saw in a catalog that was perfect for me. She tried to get out of telling me anything more because she hadn’t meant to mention it. She was planning on getting it for me for Christmas. She said as soon as she saw it she thought, “Cyndi”. Another tradition my sister and I started long ago is that when a situation like this arises you must spill the beans. Once we have knowledge of a secret, we must know that secret. Immediately. Along those lines, we insisted that my mother tell us what the sign said.
I’ve come to embrace my craziness. She may not be proud of it. She definitely doesn’t embrace it. But on some level she does get it, accept it and is able to laugh about it. That’s good enough for me. This is the sign that made my mother immediately think of her eldest daughter:
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“Oh it’s taking so long I could be wrong, I could be ready
Oh but if I take my heart’s advice I should assume it’s still unsteady
Oh I’m never really ready, I’m never really ready
I’m in repair, I’m not together but I’m getting there”
- “In Repair” by John Mayer
Today, November 3rd would have been his 72nd birthday. The 10 year anniversary of his death was last month. We received a piece of junk mail addressed to him today. He never lived here. We bought this house 2 years after he died.
Ten years. It seems like a lifetime ago.
I don’t believe one of the things I said in last year’s post. I know I believed it at the time.
“I forgave him and grieved for my lost childhood a long time ago.”
No. That’s simply not true. I have never grieved for him or my lost childhood. It’s too much. Whenever I come even close to wrapping my brain around any of the emotions that surface when thinking of him I have to back away. The many forms of abuse I endured when he was healthy are so complicated and so much a part of my identity that I have to deal with my recollections in small doses.
I’m not even sure how to go about grieving for him. It’s so surreal, losing a parent. The hospice nurses told me that it’s actually more difficult for children who lose parents with whom they had a less than loving relationship. They warned me that I may not grieve at all but that somewhere down the road, “maybe even 10 years from now”, it will hit me, and hit hard.
I moved out just as he was beginning to get really sick. After I moved out I mostly only saw him at the occasional obligatory holiday and the seemingly endless emergency hospital visits and eventually in the nursing home. My only memories of him as an adult revolved around pretending everything was normal and his illness. That’s it.
I think that’s why it’s been easier for me to reconcile my relationship with my mother. She’s still here (thank God…or whoever). I never got to know him as a healthy adult.
I wonder how different my life would be if he were still here and healthy. I wonder how he’d have treated my sons. I wonder how he’d have treated me. I’ll never know.
I have to deal with all these conflicting feelings at some point. It’s obvious that avoiding them has caused most of my problems, especially my weight and body image issues, my anxiety and my trust issues. It’s just so overwhelming that I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do it. I’m in repair. I hope wherever he is, he is too.
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“Our truest response to the irrationality of the world is to paint or sing or write, for only in such response do we find truth.” — Madeleine L’Engle
November 2, 2008 was the date I sat down, wrote this post and hit the oft-dreaded publish button for the first time, claiming my own little spot here on the interwebs. I didn’t have much of a clue about why I was doing it or where I was going with it. I now have a pretty firm grasp on why I do it but still not the slightest idea of where it’s going.
I have learned quite a bit over the past year through blogging.
I’ve learned that pretty much no matter what I write about there is at least one person, and usually many more than just one, who reads it and comments or e-mails me to say they’ve been in the same situation or feel the exact same way. I’ve learned that I’m not alone.
I’ve learned that it is possible to develop relationships with people who follow my blog and whose blogs I follow. We have gotten to know each other. Admittedly, we never really know exactly how well we know each other since our primary interactions are through what each of us chooses to expose on our blogs and in our comments. Much can be hidden. The same can be said for people we know in life though. Some of the friends I’ve met through blogging have become facebook friends too, some I communicate with regularly via e-mail, one I have met in person. Some turned out not to be friends at all and/or not who they want people to believe they are. Some lost interest in my blog or I lost interest in theirs. Some stopped blogging and have disappeared. They have all touched me in some way and all taught me something about life or about myself.
I’ve learned a ton about social media. When I started out I had a MySpace account and one e-mail address. Today, I’m on virtually every social networking site there is. I can’t even remember all that I’ve signed up for. MySpace has been completely abandoned. Facebook is private and used primarily for people who I actually know, except my public Facebook Page for this blog. I have an endless number of e-mail addresses. I even know a little about search engine optimization, especially that anyone claiming to be a SEO guru, is in fact, NOT.
I’ve learned that there are multiple cliques within the blogging community. There is always some controversy or other brewing. These always seem to bring out the worst in people, the catty in-fighting hurts us all. This is especially true amongst “mommy-bloggers” which is, unfortunately, the category under which my blog most likely falls. I try to ignore the nonsense. It usually blows over pretty quickly and isn’t nearly as important as anyone involved thought it was.
I’ve learned that blogging is extremely time consuming and much easier to keep up with when not employed than when working full time. I’ve learned that doesn’t bother me and that I somehow find the time because I love it so much.
My most popular blog post by far is Narcissistic Mothers. My least popular post is Are Credit Scores Obsolete. I guess there a lot more people trying to understand their parents and narcissists than there are interested in credit scores or the mortgage industry. Or maybe there are just a lot more professional bloggers out there talking about credit scores and the mortgage industry so my little post didn’t cover any new ground.
That about sums up what I’ve learned this year and I hope to learn even more over the next year. Thank you to everyone who’s reading!
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“Those seemingly interminable dark walks between houses, long before street-lit safety became an issue, were more adrenalizing than the mountains of candy filling the sack. Sadly Halloween, with our good-natured attempts to protect the little ones, from the increasingly dangerous traffic and increasingly sick adults, has become an utter bore.” ~ Lauren Springer
I’m not a big fan of Halloween. Except for the chocolate. My boys are 9 & 11 so they’re still very much into it. Their chosen costumes get creepier every year. This quote reminded me that at their ages my friends and I were out as late as possible without the hindrance benefit of any adult supervision whatsoever. I wouldn’t even consider letting them go trick-or-treating alone after dark. How times have changed. God, I sound like I’m 80 years old….I can remember back during the depression of 1929 2009…YIKES!
Anyway, I don’t mind going out with them and enjoying them enjoying themselves. It’s cute and I know soon they’ll be way too cool for all this nonsense and I’ll miss it. I don’t mind taking all the Reese’s (cups not pieces, I do have standards when taking candy from children) for myself either.
We used to have a neighbor, whom I considered to be something of a drip and not at all attractive. He had no personality to speak of so we didn’t interact much although our kids were friends. He used to wear this Zorro costume every Halloween. He didn’t look like a drip in that costume at all. I don’t know if it was my obsession with attraction to Antonio Banderas or just the mystery of the black mask, cape and sword (insert Freudian reference here…pun intended) but that costume made Halloween a lot more interesting for me.
What I really can’t stand is office Halloween parties where you’re expected to dress up and sit around working in some ridiculous costume all day just to show you’re a “team player”. God, I hate that phrase. There’s always at least one woman who doesn’t get that while it has become standard to dress like a skank on Halloween (when did that happen anyway?!), it’s probably not the best idea for the office.
The options for adult costumes range from hooker to dork with virtually no options in between those two extremes.
Exhibit A:
Exhibit B:
As if I’d be caught dead in either of those costumes in public! Exhibit A…I’d either get arrested, be banned from the PTA (oops, that’s already happened) or get a LOT of candy. 
Exhibit B….if I were to even consider wearing this ridiculous thing in public I may as well save some money, give up and just wear crocs and sweatpants.
Luckily I get to work from home tomorrow but I didn’t hear about any office dress-up nonsense anyway and I won’t be attending any costume parties. I will do my part by wearing my t-shirt that says “witchy” and wander our well-lit neighborhood with my little monsters, enjoy their fun and steal their chocolate-and-peanut-buttery-goodness.
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“As we maneuver to avoid the wrath of punishers and the aggressive way they manipulate us, we may find ourselves doing things that amaze us- lying, keeping secrets, sneaking around- to maintain the illusion of obeying them.” — Susan Forward
We can’t (or won’t) always avoid chronic manipulators in our lives. They may be family members, bosses, co-workers, friends or acquaintances who, for a variety of reasons, we cannot or will not simply cut them out of our lives. My mother is a perfect example of this. There are no circumstances under which I will ever cut her out of my life.
When I first began my quest for understanding my own depression, anxiety, insomnia and overall feelings of hopelessness, I had to go way back to figure out where my thought processes started and that, of course, was in childhood. Once I came to the realization that my mother was not a co-victim of my father’s abuse but in fact, a co-abuser, I was extremely angry. During that period of time I learned to distance myself from her, to the point where I sometimes wouldn’t return her calls for weeks. This was as much self-preservation as it was an act of kindness towards her. I recognized that I was dredging up all sorts of pain from the past, that my anger was about things that cannot be changed or fixed, and I didn’t want to completely lose it and unleash all that anger on her in the present. I was working on myself not on blaming her forever.
Before I realized all that, I had a lot of questions for her about different events from my childhood. I asked them of her when I was feeling calm and was not accusatory. I would wait anywhere from several days to several weeks to actually ask the questions that came up in order to be certain that I didn’t start the conversation off in a hostile manner. I was open and honest about why I was asking.
I finally stopped asking due to the manipulative ways in which she would answer these questions. I wasn’t gaining any real insight and was actually feeling much worse about myself and angrier towards her. There are hundreds of examples but the real value in those seemingly pointless conversations was that I learned how to stop being manipulated.
This cooling-off period not only served as a way for me to avoid venting all my pent-up anger at a 64 year old woman for things she did or didn’t do over 20 years ago. It also served as a break from the manipulation game we were still playing. She used many different tactics, I always gave her what she wanted, and then I was left feeling used, pissed off or depressed.
Once we resumed more regular communication, I was more honest and open with her than I had ever been. She seemed to be as well. When I started to recognize a manipulation ploy I would call her on it or simply not respond to it at all. I would either calmly refuse, tell her I’d have to get back to her or sometimes even laugh at the absurdity of whatever she was saying. She learned that I was no longer allowing her to pull the strings. I wasn’t even upset about it. It just wasn’t happening anymore.
She still tries once in a while. The most recent example I can think of involves this blog. She does not like that I write about such personal things, particularly if they have anything to do with her. She is still of the belief that everything should be kept secret and only the false image should be shared with the world. Obviously, I disagree. I have never really felt compelled to explain much to her about why I do this and she rarely acknowledges that she reads it at all if she does. But she does throw in little barbs about how I should be careful about what I write, sometimes requests that I not write about specific things she tells me, and one time suggested I try a different type of writing. Are you ready for this one? Harlequin romance novels.
She set it up well, claiming that my grandmother was the one who suggested it because I’m such a good writer and I could make quite a bit of money from writing these types of novels. As in all good manipulation attempts, there is a grain of truth to it. My grandmother does read Harlequin romance novels. That’s where the truth ends. My grandmother has no idea what a blog is, has never been on the internet and has never read anything I’ve written.
If this conversation had taken place two years ago I would have been enraged. I would have angrily accused her of not understanding me, not supporting me and trying to tell me what to do. She would have become defensive and blatantly criticized me for the things I write about. I’m certain she would have gone so far as to imply or outright tell me that I am intentionally trying to hurt and/or embarrass her as a guilt-tripping tactic.
Instead, since I have learned to ignore this nonsense and do as I please, I calmly and even amicably, called her bluff. I laughed and explained that I have no interest in fiction writing, find writing about personal issues therapeutic and have no intention of stopping. I scoffed at the idea that my grandmother has any clue if I’m a good writer or that she could possibly even know what a blog is or what mine is about.
That was the end of that conversation. She may or may not have been happy with me. I’ll never know. I was happy with the way I responded and since there was no payoff, she did not pursue it again.
It takes two people for a manipulative transaction to be completed. Both people play a part in the game. The manipulator wants something. The target doesn’t want to give it but does so anyway just to avoid the manipulator. In this game the target always loses twice. First, the target gives the manipulator whatever it is they wanted even though the target does not really want to give it. Secondly, the target experiences negative feelings for having given in.
Therein lies the answer to how to deal with a manipulative person that you are not able to completely remove from your life. You stop playing your part in the game. The only reason manipulation works is….well, it works. If the target stops allowing it to work, there is no payoff for the manipulator. The relationship changes dramatically once the payoff is removed.
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“My colleague told me: “It took a long time, but I finally figured it out. When it comes to men who are romantically interested in you, it’s really simple. Just ignore everything they say and only pay attention to what they do.” — Randy Pausch
I was watching The Penguins of Madagascar
If you aren’t familiar with this cartoon, the penguins live in the zoo and believe themselves to be some sort of army, patrolling the zoo and making it safe for the children who come to visit. They take their roles very seriously and believe themselves to be quite brilliant, resourceful and in charge. Because they are in fact, not well-versed in the ways of the world, not an actual army, and seriously overestimate their knowledge and abilities, shenanigans frequently ensue. It’s no more or less formulaic than any other kids’ cartoon but there’s some good stuff in there to keep the parents slightly interested too.
This particular episode involved a hornet’s nest and a group of vindictive hornets hell-bent on stinging the crap out of the penguins and their beloved visitors…kids. The penguins failed at every attempt to get rid of the hornets, getting stung repeatedly and ending up in quite a bit of pain. They noticed that their not-so-bright friend, Mort, was stung multiple times but felt no pain. The scientist in the penguin army decided that Mort must have a Field Of Ignorance surrounding him that protects him from feeling pain. He is so clueless that since he is unaware that hornet stings cause pain, he doesn’t feel it.
I thought this was a hilarious metaphor for two different reasons. The first one being the obvious…there are ignorant people out there who simply don’t realize they are not bright, socially inept, fashion-challenged or just plain moronic. It’s not nice to say, but it’s true and you know it. Just check out People Of Walmart for about five minutes and you’ll see what I’m talking about.
The second one is not so funny or so mean. The field of ignorance that we live in called denial. We refuse to acknowledge that which we can’t handle, don’t want to deal with or that simply confuses us. Breaking through this field of ignorance can lead to a much simpler and peaceful life, although the process itself can be excruciatingly painful.
The quote I chose and the overall message of this very long-winded post that started with wisdom I gathered from a cartoon about talking penguins (possibly I have a field of insanity that I haven’t noticed) is really about how to deal with the manipulative people I wrote about in my last post. It may not always be immediately apparent, but I usually do have a point.
Actions speak louder than words. That’s how we can all learn to deal with manipulative people. I myself, choose to get rid of them altogether whenever possible. As I mentioned, I consider them to be a waste of my time. If you must deal with one or more of these game-playing-time-sucking-brats, the best way to deal with them is to ignore what they say and focus on what they do.
Do they say they love you but then repeatedly do things that you have told them you don’t want them to do. For example, say your husband is a manipulative individual. He may say he loves you, you are important to him, blah blah blah, but if he stays out all night, doesn’t tell you where he is, and doesn’t answer his cell phone, are you really that important to him? In this same scenario, I imagine a big old fight would ensue once he did come home. He would have all sorts of excuses and lies (he lost his phone, he was too drunk to drive, he crashed at his buddy’s house who for some reason also had no phone, he didn’t want to wake you, you are a nag, he doesn’t have to explain himself, he did explain himself so just drop it already, you’re overreacting, etc….). All of that is nonsense. The truth is that this is not how a loving husband behaves. You can now remove the field of ignorance he has tried to place around you and focus on the truth. The truth of his actions.
His words are meaningless and time-wasting. What I have found, time and again, is that when someone doesn’t make sense, when their words don’t match their actions, they are either downright lying to cover up something BIG or are simply attempting to manipulate me. Ignoring them and focusing on their behaviors is much more telling and can help you determine if you, like I do, want to just cut them out for good.
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“There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts.” – Diane Setterfield
We’ve all used manipulation tactics to get what we’ve wanted from time to time. Most people don’t even realize they’re doing it. It’s become a built-in defense mechanism. Other people, such as my personal favorites (narcissists) not only realize it, they plan it. They use as many as they can in quick succession or even simultaneously in an effort to confuse their target to get what they want. I’ve only come to understand and recognize many of these tactics fairly recently. I’ve had to acknowledge that I’ve used some of them myself.
Dr. George K. Simon, author of In Sheep’s Clothing: Understanding and Dealing with Manipulative People
Minimization: This one is possibly the one that has been the most damaging to me. Examples I am familiar with: ”you’re so over-sensitive”, “you’re overreacting” and “why are you making such a big deal out of this”.
Playing The Victim: I’ve written about this myself recently. My father used to pull this card when he realized he crossed the line by telling me about all of his problems, as a way of excusing his own abusive behavior towards me. “Poor me, I had a bad day at work, your mother did this or that to upset me….see how pathetic I am? I’m really a lovely person but I’ve had such a bad day/week/life.”
Vilifying the Victim: Another very familiar tactic. “You are vicious and angry”, “You don’t really care about me”, “What is wrong with you?” and “You act like you hate me” are some of my personal favorites.
Dr. Simon writes about several others and I highly recommend reading them all if you even suspect you are dealing with a chronic manipulator. I sometimes still fall for them and sometimes still use some. I fall for more than I use and I normally catch on pretty quickly these days. Ever since I took a stand, I find myself behaving much differently and it has turned out to be fun ridding myself of these time-sucking individuals. I now refuse to even attempt to reason with a chronic manipulator. It’s a pointless waste of my time and energy.
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