The Narcissist Ballet

The narcissist always has a force of flying monkeys at her disposal. They are always ready to do her bidding. Many are willing victims and others are deceived and have no idea the role they play in the narcissist's life. I am dismayed at the knowledge that even I have been a flying monkey. They are artfully and skillfully manipulated by the Narcissist.

If I were a dancer I would create a ballet about this delicate dance of doom. I wanted to dance when I was young. I brought home ballet books and when my MNM was not around I would practice the difficult foot positions and imagine myself dancing for crowds of adoring fans. There was something so pretty and beautiful in this dance. It was the stuff of fairy tales for me. My mother said she sent me to tap dance lessons and I cried and had no talent so she never sent me again. She said if I had wanted to dance I would have danced when I had the opportunity to do so. I guess it never occurred to her that maybe at four year of age I may not have been ready. My sister was the one who got the dancing lessons and she suffered horribly as the favoured daughter. I would not have wanted to dance in her shoes.

My ballet would have me, as the heroine; dressed in white. I would be on the stage, a wisp of being, very ethereal and delicate. I would be running hither and thither trying to escape the flying monkeys and my evil mother. The monkeys would be a dark grey and would have green faces. They would have big scary wings that they would flap at me and I would be scared and run and jump away from them. I would hide my face with my arm to protect myself from their onslaughts. I would look over my shoulder in fear.

My MNM would have a mask. One side would be beautiful and it would be the side that she would show to the flying monkeys. They would love her, pity her, help her, believe her, and adore her. What a beautiful woman she is, and that is how the narcissist gets her victims. I would see the ugly, green, jealous, envious, evil side of her face. The true face. The scapegoat child, me; always sees the truth and becomes the truth teller if they survive. She turns to me in her macabre dance and you can see her mouth moving to spew out words of hate and destruction. Her fingers are pointed in bony accusations towards me. Her dress black and tattered with decay.

She then spins and pirouttes towards her monkeys and swoops with and adoring arms wide open welcome. They dance a celebratory dance in their mutual admiration for one another. I run all over the stage looking for escape as I watch in mute silence, knowing what will happen.

The flying monkeys and my MNM nod and laugh in agreement and move in on my. I am tossed like a ship in the sea, and I flounder trying to get away. My evil MNM is directing them, arms waving madly in the arm, swooping her and there, commanding her army. The monkeys spin faster and faster. Their arms stretched out they knock me from side to side. Their legs come up as they pirouette faster and faster, arms and legs flying.

I dance faster and faster. The fear is in my face and I know my fate. I am caught by the leg of one of the monkeys and fall crashing to the ground still and silent. Crumpled, broken, and dead.

Soul murder. You can only withstand the onslaught of such evil for so long. When you are attacked from all sides and there is no way to escape you will fall. When you are so ripped apart and you have nothing with which to compare the truth, you believe the lies.

"You deserve to die."
"You don't deserve to live."
"Why don't you kill yourself."
"You'd be better off dead."
"You useless piece of s***. You'd be better off if you were out of all our miseries."
"Tell me why I should let you live."
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."
"You're a coward and suicide is the cowards way out. Why don't you try it?"
"It would be better that you killed yourself before I do it for you."
"Why do you want to live? You aren't good for anything."
"Do you know how much I hate you and want you dead?"

The first time I can recall trying to take my life I was about 12 years old. I ended up in the hospital for about 2 weeks. I drank almost an entire gallon jug of vinegar. It said pure alcohol on the side and I heard my mother talking about people dying from drinking alcohol. It didn't work. I gave myself a case of pancreatitis which puzzled the doctors. I was too young. I didn't dare tell them why.

When I was about 13 I tried to hang myself. It didn't work. I told my stepfather and he told me not to do that again. No help from the flying monkey. Not even a bit of concern.

When I was thirteen I drove a big rusty nail through my hand hoping to get tetanus and die. We took it in health and I learned about it. I didn't die. Didn't even get infected.

Stupid things. Desperate things. I made more attempts, the most serious when I was 17, and the last one when I was 39. I fight suicidal thoughts all the time.

I will dance a new dance now to my God. The old dance is no longer who I am.

Psalm 30:11  You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
12 that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
Lord my God, I will praise you forever.

I am thankful that I now know my worth as well. This is what the Bible tells me I am worth:

Matthew 10:29-31 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.

Isaiah 13:12 I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man than the golden wedge of Ophir.

No More Tears

You had me crying again. Crying because I wasn't loving you enough. You felt I loved others more than you. What is really sad is that I don't think I did. I should have loved everyone more than I loved you. I loved you so much and kept trying to love you more and more that you really got the most of my love. I never tried to love anyone and show someone as hard as I tried to show you. And yet, you feel I loved my SOB (your words) of a father more than you. Someone who never beat me. Someone who made me laugh. Someone who made it fun to be a kid. Someone I couldn't wait to be with. You knew that and took him away. Your jealousy and unhappiness sent him running for the hills to escape from your wrath. I can still see the bacon and eggs sliding down his windshield. I recall on the mountain highway when you pulled the keys out of the ignition and threw them out the window. I think there is a reason that car manufacturers make it so you can't do that anymore while the car is in gear. We ended up crashing in the side of the mountain. You, dad, and four kids. You were willing to risk anything, because to you weren't any"one". We were just things to be controlled and manipulated. Like chess pieces on a board and when you didn't get your way, you'd knock us all over.  I remember when you jumped out of the moving car. I was screaming at you to not do that. "Don't mommy, don't mommy". "Mommy, please don't. We're scared". "Mommy, we love you, close the door." At times I had very dishonoring and evil thoughts and wished you had died.

Your little pawns in your game of life. That's all we were. If you could make us look bad to make you look good, well game on. You did not care about the level of shame or humiliation you brought on us. You had us steal for you and told us not to get caught. Good one there. If we got caught you would berate us and shame us in front of the authority and play the poor single mom, or the poor struggling mom with some terminal illness. How you tried so hard to keep your kids in line but they just won't listen. Oh, the tears came so easy. They'd be so suckered in and feel so sorry for you and they'd look at us with disgust. We would have to make apologies and retribution to them. We'd work for free, cleaning yards, houses, whatever they needed. All the while filled with shame and embarrassment for something we did not do on own accord. I hated my life so much. I really hated it.

Then the knocking the pawns over. The rage that would take place because you had to act your academy award winning part due to your nacissist injury. We would have to be humiliated even further for doing you bidding. We would have to be "punished". Not punished for stealing, but punished for getting caught. "Didn't I tell you not to get caught?" Thwack! "What are you crying for? I haven't even hit you yet!" Thwack! "You brought it on yourself so don't cry to me!" Thwack! "Pull your pants DOWN!" Thwack! "What does "Don't get caught me to you"?" Thwack! "So what are you going to do next time?"

It would go on sometimes for an hour or more. I'd cry and beg "Please don't hit me." She'd laugh and say "Take it like an adult. You're such a baby. Can't even follow the simplest instructions. How are you ever going to make it in life if you can't do the simple things?" And the conveyor belt would lash out over and over on my bare bottom, my back, my legs, my shoulders. She'd pull my hair if I tried to move off her lap and slap me in the face if I wasn't responding to her in the correct tone of voice or the right words. When she was all done I would have to tell her I loved her before I could leave the room. Sometimes that would entail more beating before I would break down and say "I love you mom."

Shortly after that we'd be sent out again to raid gardens, steal pop bottles, a carpet sweeper once and a carpet, apples off trees. We'd get home and MNM would demand "Did anyone see you?" We'd say no and she would exclaim that they better not have because you know what will happen if they did. Next we'd she in doo doo up to our necks because we didn't get enough of this or that. Then we'd have to decide which us useless ones would do without since we hadn't thought to bring enough for everyone.

I cried then. Every day. Every night. All the time. I cried the other day. It washed away some of the blindness I had for you. I don't think I will cry because of you again. My heart is drying up.

I await the blessed return of Jesus and believe and live in hope of his words:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:4

Tactics

Malignant narcissist psychopath disordered people have an enormously immature attitude of entitlement. To them you are not a person, but an object that is there only to satisfy their needs. Their need is to be noticed and they don't care whether is love or hate. As long as they are getting attention it is okay. If you hate them, these people are so twisted that they are able to twist it and maniputlate into something to suit their needs and purposes.

Always be aware that if they do not get their own way  you will be on your way to the MNP disorded persons ways of controlling you and putting the focus back on them.  Your job is always to gratify them and they will become vindictive, they will bully you, shame you, rage at you, put you down, treat you contemptuously, and attempt to make you doubt you own sanity.

Blame shifting: They blame you for their bad behavior.
Financial abuse: They control the finances and manipulate expenses to be in their control.
Smear Campaigning: They have subtle or overt conversations with friends and family which contain false concern for your mental health or behavior.
Compulsive lying: These are lies that are told in order to control the victim's reality... they might seem silly or to serve no purpose unless one looks deeper.
Rage: Sometimes, the person with NPD will simply rage at their victim. This can include emotional, verbal and physical abuse.
Threats: The person with NPD is a master of intimidation. They will make you fear for your life, children, reputation or job.
http://www.examiner.com/article/how-to-weather-a-narcissist-s-storm

My MNPM just put me through a silent treatment after I lost my cool with her. Not a good thing to do with narcissists as it feeds their need for attention. They sit back and gloat that they have won the round. You are now as angry and upset as they feel. I managed to get in control of myself and used a lot of "I" statements and set some boundaries with her. She was not a happy narcissist! In her days of the silent treatment she worked and honed her skills to manipulate me when she called again. It was perfection and such a work or narcissisitic skill. I was prepared and armed and didn't fall for it.

HER: Hello.
ME: Hi mom, how you doing?
HER: I thought you were going to call me.
ME: No mom, I said that I don't like to call when you are so sick and can't take my call, so I told you from now on you call when you are feeling well. That way I don't disturb you.

This was decided after three episodes of her refusing to take my call for 1 day, 2 days, and then 4 days because she was sick. The last episode of 4 days had her flying monkey tell me that she was so sick that he was scared. "She won't let me call the doctor, she won't let me take her to the hospital, she won't let me call the ambulance....I am so scared, I don't know what to do. I think she is going to die. She says such bad things and says such bad words to me."  English is not this gentleman's first language. My MNM has a filthy mouth. If there is a curse word, she knows it and she knows how to string them together in such a horrifying string of filth that you want to shower after you hear it.  Hearing that she was saying bad words let me know she wasn't dying. She had a lot of energy left. I explained to my MNM that I would no longer call her and bother since she is so sick so often. I was showing her concern and respect. That was the new rule and new boundary. I was not going to be rejected or punished by her and I didn't need to worry about whether or not she really was dying, and I didn't need the Flying Monkey adding his own worry and stress to the situation. I didn't need or want 2 people trying to manipulate me.

HER: That's not fair. I shouldn't have to do all the calling! (Trying to make me feel guilty.)
ME: Mom, I called you every day for over 2 months. I explained what would happen if you refused to take my call again and you did it again. These are the rules. I don't like being made to worry and I don't like bothering you when you are sick.
HER: Well, that is silly, you don't need to worry.
ME: Mom, it is natural to worry when someone is sick.
HER: Not if I told you not to.
ME: Mom, turn it around. If you called her and my husband told you I was sick and wouldn't go to the hospital, etc (read the above). Would you worry?
HER: Of course I would, and I would be in my car and at your place as fast as I could get there to make sure you were okay. (Bingo! If I loved her, I would have rushed to her side.)
ME: Well mom, that is you. I think you are an adult, and as such can make your own mind up whether or not you need to go to the hospital. If you thing staying at home is best, then I trust your judgement.
HER: Well, I guess I just care too much. (Indicating that I didn't do what she wanted -- rush to her bedside -- so therefore was lacking).
ME: I care too, but I respect your wishes to be left alone.
HER: Well, if you say so. (Letting me know she is not happy, and that she doesn't believe me.)
ME: Mom, if I came over when you said you were sick and wanted to be alone, then I would not be respecting you or your wishes.
HER: (Time to change the subject as she knows she is not winning.) How are you sleeping?

My MNM knows I have insomnia and night terrors. She is fully aware of what caused them. She knows I have terrors because of the fear of being murdered by her. I relive them over and over. She pooh-poohs them with, "Oh no, I loved you and would never have hurt you."  I don't know how she can make that statement without going up in a pillar of smoke as she hurt us everyday, and in every way you can imagine. It was a life filled with horrifying brutality and pain.  So, she gets me all riled up a few nights earlier and she KNOWS exactly how I slept. She wants me to know how she can control me.

ME: I don't want to talk about my sleep. I sleep the way I sleep.
HER: Well, I want to know because I care about you. (No, you just want to get your narcissistic supply)
ME: Well, if I am having problems with my sleep then I will talk it over with my counsellor.
HER: You've been doing that for years and they haven't helped you yet. You need to talk to your MOTHER so she can help you. (Yeah, right. I can't be helped, it's not working, you're incurable, talk to me who caused it.)
ME: Well, sometimes these things take a while to be fixed. I just have to be patient.
HER: Well, why doesn't God help you then. You said he has answered so many of your prayers, then why won't he take this away?  (Let's attack her beliefs.)
ME: How do you know he hasn't? Sometimes the answer is Yes, sometimes the answer is No, like he said to Paul when he asked for the thorn to be removed. Jesus said "My grace is sufficent for you"; and then sometimes the answer is not yet. I don't pretend to know the mind of God, but I know he hears my prayers and answers them.
HER: Not very well, obviously. (more baiting, and pointing out how ineffective my God is. Mother can do better.)
ME: Perhaps he is teaching me patience.
HER: (Time to change the subject). So are you going to come home and stay with me when your sister comes, since your husband will be gone? It would be so nice to have you come home.

AAARGH!! I so detest the word home when she uses. So completely delusional! I never had a home, not ever. It was a place of abuse. It was a place of horror. It was a place that drove 50% of her children to attempt suicide.  One more may have but he is dead so I can't ask and I was kept away from the family when I left. The other is a drug addict, and the other is tormented with memories and has become very reclusive and withdrawn from the world. I had no home.

ME: I don't plan on it. I will come and visit you with sis.
HER: But wouldn't it be nice to be with your mother? Won't it be nice to come home so we can hug and kiss one another? I can make you something nice to eat. What would you like to eat?
ME: Nothing mom, I coming with sis and going home.
HER: But you will be alone all week, can't you spend a few days with me?
ME: Mom, my husband goes away and I get to do all the things I want to do. Plus, I get to have some really important me time. I love to be by myself so I can write and create things.
HER: But a whole week...that's a along time...(Now i was going to have to get really firm, but hubby came to the rescue and reminded me of our sick cats.)
ME: I want my ME time, it's really important to me, besides if hubby is gone, no one is here to give the kitties their medicine.

She caved!  Well, she let me go as I said we were expecting a call, otherwise the attack would have gone on and on until I was exhausted again. Be on your guard at all times and never let your defenses down. Make your boundaries really clear and never back down. Never promise anything you can't give and never go back on your promise. Don't ever back down. Stay strong, you'll need to be.

The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. Psalm 28:7

I am making it, a moment at a time, a minute at a time, a day at a time. I am getting stronger and healthier.