The busyness of the form of investigation I was doing masked what I was always feeling.
It was so so instructive to see how someone with NPD “self soothes”; incessant news chatter on her phone.
I realise as someone on the other end of the personality spectrum, more towards Dependant Personality Disorder, how I do the same thing with constant internal dramatization and chatter.
Actualist type chatter will achieve the same thing as anything else; ignoring the void.
It’s been so interesting to feel that stark loneliness and the details of it. It feels that my apartment is ‘silent’, but factually there is plenty of sounds; the cars on the street, parrots in the trees, my own breath.
It makes so much sense too. The feeling has no actual existence, so of course it is silent.
Something without factual existence is by default silent and claustrophobic as one’s descent into the ‘nothing’.
My motorcycle is around 30min drive away from home, near my workplace.
I am going to pass my licence assessment on the 14th, and then take my electric scooter on an epic 1.5 hour ride back up the coast to pick up my car.
The huge realisation of this failed relationship is that I have almost no ability to put myself in the middle of my quest for enjoyment. I am always relying on others to think of fun things to do.
I swear that the power of my own ‘disorder’ has never been so apparent to me.
What I miss is what I always missed, that inspired person who will provide the ideas and fun in life.
I don’t for a second miss the near constant subtle disgust she had for me, however it was not unlike looking in a mirror.
That disgust for myself was always there.
Although I otherwise am re-assessing everything she ever said; one thing did seem genuine in hindsight.
She said that her purpose was to make her man a better man…
Not quite how she said it, but close.
It’s such a perplexing statement. However, considering that it was her that inspired such huge changes in my life, it makes me wonder about the nature of NPD. Is it a disorder in the big scheme of things? Considering how pathetic the dependant Personality is? How insane it is to want another person to build oneself around?
I wouldn’t want to trade places with her. I saw the suffering. I saw the utter frustration. However, it’s the first time I was ever inspired to want to ‘die’ for someone to be free.
The contrast between a moralistic super-ego and a gentle genuine friend is finally apparent.
I gently talk with myself. Like two people. We both know the goal, but it is the gentle exploration of where I am that is important first.
I ask myself “How are you, mate?” I answer as I would another friend who cares. Someone interested in the reality. In the ins and outs of each feeling.
I don’t feel loneliness now.
Perhaps I am descending into a split personality, but I is better than the one I had, so viva la France!
Had such a wonderful time at the beach. On my own.
First time actually enjoying the beach on my own.
The irony of discovering my own “disorder” via a relationship with the much reviled NPD personality. She wasn’t wrong. My way of being was no way to live.
I bbq my favourite roasted capcicum and chicken on a bed of exotic lettuce.
I don’t miss her. Factually, she will do whatever suits her. In this I am happy. Isn’t this all about enjoying and appreciating?
The fact that my entire psyche was centred around that desire for a woman, and through her I was allowed to enjoy the world around me; what a silly thing to be.
I watched the waves and people around me. Clutched the soft sand in my fists knowing that it’s pleasure was mine to enjoy.
A picturesque scene which has few equivalences.
I wished her all the best, and to enjoy in my note. I mean it.
When I rang and spoke with my ex of 2 years, the happiness I felt to hear she is enjoying her new (year or so old) relationship was real.
I really had zero clue what being my own best friend meant. It took upending my entire life, a clinical NPD (I would bet my Alfa on that diagnosis) to finally get what enjoying my own company meant.
The stay down the beach was magical. The waves caressing the sand, the hues of blue and green as the sun caught the small and gentle waves.
I understand now why women are driven to seek experience outside of what men do. Or at least the man I was.
The answer is here is in the actual world of experience.
I find this really interesting, isn’t that basically the whole thrust of the real world? I could rephrase this and say that my entire psyche was centred around that desire for recognition, and through others I could enjoy life.
So pure, direct enjoyment is somehow outlawed and one is only allowed to enjoy through some pre-cooked and pre-approved medium, eg :
AFT - The method is enjoying and appreciating this moment of being alive.
Actualist aspirant - Ok but what exactly am I meant to enjoy about this moment of being alive?
It’s like how a kid will have the time of their life doing absolutely anything at all. Then all of a sudden when I am an adult everything has to be ‘a thing’, a creation recognised and approved by the group.
But then everything of this kind is always a step removed, always something extra.
It does seem so silly doesn’t it that in the wanting to enjoy life, one has to go through ones partner (or society or whatever) to be allowed to do so.
So the idea is, cut out the middleman!
Ooh just like this in fact :
R: Then you are free – free of the whole Human Condition.
What can you remember of perfection? What was your very best experience? What comes closest to what I am talking about?
Q:I don’t know … I can’t remember them. I don’t have much memory of my childhood at all.
R: Once when you said to me, looking at a particularly bushy garden: ‘The word ‘bush’ gets in the way of seeing it’.
Yes! I was looking out from my balcony. My hard earned apartment balcony, looking over the valley with it’s multitude of trees and houses and apartments. The square windows of the apartments lit up in various shades of yellow and orange. The street lights like stars in a nebula of trees and shadow. I felt compelled to take a photo. Felt I should paint a picture. Why? So I can enjoy it through someone else’s eyes.
The beach was pristine. I could feel myself drawn into the waves. I could feel their presence. The tumbling warmth of their motion. The sweeping caress of the water on the sand.
The ships parked on the horizon as the sun makes it’s way towards the depths of the ocean.
The lovers and their dogs walking by. The young people scattered around. Some glued to their phones. Some looking out to the distance.
I wondered about her and her “disorder”. Her obsession with the sunset. I wonder now about my own father’s obsession with being on the open road.
The so called “empath” is trapped in a world that only exists through others eyes. Arguably more disabled than the self-possessed.
And while her behaviour at the end was abominable, like a two year old destroying a work of art out of spite for not getting a cookie, the shear determination to get enjoyment at the cost of integrity was inspiring.
I posted a while back of an experience with her where I found myself at the centre of the rage of a line of people and their impromptu leader. I mused that the line was a make believe construct that existed in their heads.
It’s the same line in me. Or was. Waiting for the other to let me know when it’s “my turn”.
It’s sorta annoying just how much amazing info on the interwebs there is about NPD
(Narcissism) and how little there is about a personality centred around empathy.
Obviously, because love, compassion, empathy are the core attributes of religion and everything else(God is love, gospel of John) the shear sickness of the ‘condition’ is not recognised.
Watching videos that perfectly describe her is annoying.
She was instrumental in totally upending my years as a “bum” (that is what my sons called me behind my back). They weren’t wrong. Completely abusing my intelligence and experience to do nothing of any particular value.
So, my previous FWB contacted me. I had archived the conversation because I had had sex with someone else and because I honoured the agreement, told her about it.
To her, I am the narcissistic “bad boy”. Who has only cheekbones and sexual ability in my favour. Oh, and a compassionate nature. Almost the perfect storm for many of my ex sexual partners. At least 4 of whom would have willingly got pregnant on the first night.
How to navigate this mess?
On one hand, I needed an actual NPD person to inspire me out of being a “bum”, on the other women who would otherwise have my highest efforts if they showed interest in actualism are just as dysfunctional in reality; believing they can bend me to their dreams of babies and white picket fences.
In another of his videos he talks about how a co-dependent has a relatively accurate view of themselves, and fantastic and delusional views of others. The NPD has the opposite. An delusional and grandiose view of themselves, but highly accurate view of others.
Both are control based reactions to abuse.
I am literally feeling amazing right now. To have someone finally explain who I am!
The patterns he describes in another of his series are exactly me. Self-appointed Saviour being one of them.
What a hoot! !
Not only did it take a NPD partner to finally get me moving, but an NPD professor to explain who I am!
@Josef I saw aspects of all the descriptions in me. I was blown away, and was close to something sensual happening in the visual field having it so clearly explained.
I had said a few posts ago, that I hide behind a lot of sensible sounding ideas.
This just launched them into space! The manipulation I engage in (both internal and external) to be the good guy, saviour, hard done by victim, basically is summed up in the video.
I just love it. Finally, it’s not academic to me how rotten my nature is! But better of course, there is no condemnation of guilt etc, it’s this freedom of having a name for the whole cluster of so called “empathetic” self serving behaviours.
Sitting at the beach, sifting the luscious soft sand between my fingers, watching the fading light in the dry heat of an easterly wind; I want time to stop.
I am told that I am in luck; time doesn’t move in actuality.
It can be understood, but only on a different plane/level. Working within its logic only creates more false answers and additional questions, but seeing the whole picture at the level of instinctual drives and the simple core of desire, compassion, sorrow, and aggression makes clear the common source of all the complexes. From that place, combined with the energy from pure intent, there’s reason to release the complexes themselves.
Nothing wrong with understanding things / yourself better, but confusion itself is a vibe that it’s easy to get lost in and ultimately used as an excuse for not becoming free. Prioritizing the [felicitous/innocuous] vibe & strengthening the connection to pure intent is always a better priority than endlessly generating impressive-sounding maps & realizations. As Richard describes it, realizations along the path are an encouraging side-effect of becoming free, not the goal.
