People are
I have frequently been accused of being “too sensitive.” And these recent months have spotlighted that sensitivity, in the macro and in the micro.
So, yeah, reader discretion advised: I will be going on a “too sensitive” rant.
Within the past weeks, especially after George Floyd’s brutal murder, as protests and riots were in full force, I was in a conversation with someone who made the statement, “People are soft.” As I was a Minnesotan, this person was curious about my perspective as “the land of 10,000 lakes” had now received global attention for ugly reasons.
My perspective? Well, the devastating circumstances shocked and hurt me.
But that casual statement about the circumstances also shocked and hurt me. For, with it, I felt a dismissive slap for anyone in pain, especially compounded by the pandemic and unrest.
Yes, pain is now the baseline for us. Covid-19, the protests, and the riots of this excruciating 2020 have amplified that reality.
As I am both a person of faith and a person grappling with an addictive brain, Romans 14:21 has been a guidepost and a sensitive reminder of vulnerability’s presence, regardless of life and world circumstances.
“It is good not to… do anything that causes your brother to stumble.”
Causing your brother to stumble…
Saying things like, “People are soft…”
Maybe not intentionally done, but, really, there is damage done, all the same.
I started slowly going over those three words…
People…are… soft…
It first hit me as an odd thing to say. There was no mention of “It’s horrible. It’s terrifying.” Just that blanket statement, judging peoples’ reactions to painful, uncertain, and scary times. I started thinking about, perhaps, some sister statements, often employed to motivate within the areas of fitness and work goals…
“Discipline is remembering what you want.”
“Go hard or go home.”
“Buck up! Man up! Woman Up!” (And all versions of “Up,” adding a particular individual, for emphasis)
I’m all for motivation, self-improvement, and goalsetting, but, maybe, it should not come at the expense of compassion. We’ve heard numerous news stories about how peoples’ lives are disrupted, routines are shattered. It’s hard to just “work out,” or “stay on task.”
We are all trying to find our equilibrium, within a context that is unfamiliar, intimidating, and yes, life threatening.
Our very lives- every facet of them- are threatened now.
Directly. Indirectly. Daily. Macro. Micro.
Before the events of 2020 got underway, it was easier for us to do routine. How many of us were complacent? We got used to convenience. So, yes, maybe we did “get soft.”
But now, we are forced to think in present-day and future filters. What will they both look like for each of us? Quarantine? Hospitalization? Sickness? Death? Change?
Oh, yes, change is there in a frightful way.
So, maybe now is not the time for gung-ho slogans and the “Buck up” culture. People are not soft.
People are…
…heartbroken, as they have lost loved ones to racism and to the pandemic…
…filled with dread as they, themselves, face the threat of the virus and/or another life-threatening condition, like cancer…
…dying alone in hospitals, on ventilators…
…anxious about their unemployment benefits running out…
…scrambling to make this month’s rent or mortgage…
…coping, to the best of their ability, as they face the “essential worker” reality for themselves. They either take their own lives into their own hands, on a daily basis, or they send a loved one out in the world to do the same…
…feel powerless, as they know their skin color can get them killed, at any time, in any place, for anything…
…besieged with anxiety, depression, addiction, and domestic violence, exacerbated by this “world on fire” in every direction…
The list goes on, as unique and heartbreaking as the individual holding the worries and the tears.
“Death and life are in the power of the tongue...”
Proverbs 18:21 further supports the caution against making our fellow human beings stumble. We can do that with words. We can do it with judgments and attitudes. It’s not just vices; it’s not just actions that create the damage. It can be the most cavalier thought or word, just tossed “off the cuff.”
But, to the person sensitive to his/her unique pain and torment, it inflicts further injury that needs not to be there. Especially now.
What’s wrong with being a bit “more sensitive” now?
People are not soft. People are the collective us. We need to lovingly treat ourselves as such.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Is That So? (Consider the Source)
Is it true; is it kind, or is it necessary?”
Socrates
Words.
Words heal. Words kill.
We have all heard the expression, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
Yet life isn’t that simple when it comes to what is said to us, is it?
And nothing gets the painful ball rolling quite like hearing certain things from our childhood, often beginning with our family of origin. For here is where seeds get planted, lies get told as truths, and issues are born long before we realize them as such.
Some examples?
“You’re ugly. / “You’re fat.”
Almost from the start of our arrival on the planet, we are assessed and judged by our appearance.
Boy/Girl.
Healthy/Unhealthy.
And soon, before we know it…
Cute/Ugly.
Thin/Fat.
Value determinations are right alongside of these simple, yet powerful, words. We are often taught, usually at the speech of a trusted adult, that we aren’t good enough because of how we look in their estimation.
And it has nothing to do with who we are… and everything to do with who they are.
Consider the Source:
Hello, Projection.
Some of us with disordered food, weight, and body image issues, indeed, have endured this kind of projection. Perhaps there was a parent who struggled with his/her own weight, and, instead of dealing with those issues directly, saw an answer or a release valve in shaming us when we were small children.
Doing so, perhaps, allowed the adult parent to still self-hate and be critical but take no responsibility for his/her personal behavior. Placing the blame on someone external, even if that is a small child, redirects the source of the problem. Yes, it’s the child’s fault, not mine.
So, there are those of us who have absorbed the harmful lie that there is something wrong with us. We are fat. We are ugly. We are bad. We are wrong. We should work on fixing that, a/k/a, fixing Mommy or Daddy, to make things right.
It’s our job to do so, after all. Our childlike mind cannot withstand anything contrary to that punishing job description.
We want to be good boys and girls, right?
“You’re stupid.”
After our very image has been assaulted as children, what can usually come next is our intellect. Think about how many times you, perhaps, were told, “You’re stupid.”
And it is sometimes accompanied with the following question:
“Can’t you do anything right?
These commentaries attack or core being. Essentially, we, as children, can often absorb the message, “I’m too stupid to live, be loved, and to have self-worth.” That realized language may come later as we mature and even enter therapy.
But, make no mistake, as innocent children, we internalize the visceral experience solely as a defect in us. We believe there is something inherently wrong with us.
We’re “too stupid” for it to be otherwise.
Consider the Source:
People sometimes do not have our best interests at heart. In fact, sometimes, they live to have our worst interests motivating their behaviors.
Now, add the devastating factor of a so-called trusted adult, parent, or authority figure to the equation and see just how damaging the results can be!
Jealousy, insecurity, and schadenfreude (the term used to describe someone who delights in another’s pain or misfortune) are not limited to adult-on-adult relationships and interactions. No, often, their tentacles can spread from a fully grown adult, jealous, and insecure of the child within his/her midst.
For instance, a mother recognizes the special gifts and talents in her daughter. Those gifts and talents may be a high I.Q., a unique creativity, or a precocious communication style, so far advanced for the child’s tender years, that this adult gets threatened by it.
The adult may, indeed, feel “less than” whenever she is in her child’s presence. Insecurity, jealousy, and a need to “level,” to “take the child down a peg or a notch” becomes all-consuming.
If the adult cannot rise to that level of brilliance or intellect, naturally, according to the insecure parent, the only recourse is to eviscerate the child’s giftings and sense of self, so that the child, indeed, is the “less than” individual in the parent-child relationship.
“You’re worthless.”
This harmful statement is often uttered on the part of the parent and/or trust adult authority figure. It comes across, via image and performance-focused issues.
Some of us are told it outright. Some of us get the insidious constant message, communicated daily to us. We are inundated with beliefs like, “I don’t look the way I’m supposed to look,” “I don’t act the way I’m supposed to act,” “I’m wrong,” and “I can never do anything right.”
Therefore, it’s not too long before we draw the conclusion, if it isn’t dictated directly to us, “I’m worthless.”
Consider the Source:
Who told/taught you that?
Again, who is the first author of this harmful belief, directed our way?
We learned it from somewhere, from someone, after all.
But, perhaps just as important of a question is “Why did they tell/teach you that?”
Again, it’s important to recognize that another person’s motivation, be they trusted parent or any other adult in our young lives, may not be noble, healthy, or loving.
When an adult, especially a parent, to a child, insists that child is value-less, defective, or only as good as the last thing achieved or perceived (focusing on the elusive image and perfectionistic mandates), it screams more of that adult’s inferior sense of self.
And again, that adult may wrongly determine the solution to their poor self- image is to make the child’s self-image worse.
It’s the adult’s issue, not the child’s. That is, unless and until, through abuse of the power and the charge the adult has over the child, the young and innocent party is now inheriting the unresolved issued of previous generations.
And the child doesn’t question why it’s happening, often times, because they implicitly trust that their parents, teachers, coaches and other “respected authority figures “know what they’re doing, love me, and want the best for me.”
In an ideal world, yes.
But do we live in that world?
Is That So?
These three little words can begin a relief-inspiring process of healing, if we are open to it, if we are willing to challenge the “reality” which appears to be so intimidating.
“Is That So?”
Incorporating these three words, saying them out loud to ourselves, and even to others can, indeed, place us on a path of heathier self-perception and choices.
You and I were fed any number of lies and harmful beliefs about who we were in the world. Many of us have been wrestling with that daunting setup since childhood.
When we were children, there was little we could do to fight against that harshness. The adults had the power, the ability, the control, and the force to execute whatever misguided, abusive, and evil will they desired to inflict upon us.
But we are adults now, empowered to choose something different, if, for no other reason, than to honor that long silenced and neglected child. The question is “Will we do that?”
Consider the Source:
As you and I consider each harmful source, speaking each harmful word into our lives, will we create another source, all our own? Will it be ourselves, someone who, when questioned if we are worthy already, someone who will confidently respond with an authentic and brave “yes?”
Let’s start being that kind of authentic and brave source right now, right where we are!
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Bashful: Exposing the Shy Narcissist
When most of us hear the word, “Narcissist,” we probably think of some exaggerated, boisterous, arrogant strutting peacock of a person. We think of over-the-top, attention-seeking behavior.
I thought that for many years. And I had numerous experiences with those types of individuals.
But there is another type of Narcissist out there. This person is flying under the radar, stealth, unassuming. Often called, the “Covert Narcissist,” they are also described as a “Fragile Narcissist” or a “Vulnerable Narcissist.”
But I think the best alternative term to describe these people is that of “Shy Narcissist.”
For whoever could think anything harmful could come from someone shy?
Just look at the image, featured here, of “Bashful,” from “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.” When you and I look at this little guy, there’s no fear that strikes our hearts. We don’t see a deadly, treacherous, manipulative enemy.
If anything, we feel compassion, maybe even a fond wish to take care of him. After all, Bashful looks so sweet and helpless.
And that, perhaps, is by design.
I’ve been challenged with a few Covert or Shy Narcissists in my life. In my experiences with Bashful, I’ve picked up on a few things, perhaps, some hallmarks of this certain type of Narcissist.
I’m Nice.
First, Bashful casts themselves as the “nice” person. “Nice” is code for harmless.
However, there’s often no harmless behavior to be found around such an individual. The “nice” mask allows for all kinds of sneaky tricks to exist. If we’re buying the image of sweet, innocent, Bashful, then we never take the opportunity, time or thought to look at what else is going on, besides this “niceness.”
“I’m Nice” is often the badge of honor a Shy Narcissist wears.
And what drives that behavior is the importance that Shy Narcissist attaches to image. Appearance, to many of these individuals, is often prized over truth. It is all about how something looks. There can exist an obsession, therefore, on the Shy Narcissist’s part, that they “appear” nice: nice in thought, word, and deed, as well as with their physical appearance and status.
Concerning my experience with Bashful, I have literally been coached to lie for them, to keep the illusion going, often at the expense of my well-being and safety. The “truth” was abuse, terror, addiction and unhealthy codependence. But, in their eyes, that truth was viewed as weak, uncomfortable and ugly.
What will others think if they knew what really was happening here?
That question, presenting unflattering reality, tortures the image-driven, Bashful.
Therefore, it must not be allowed to have air. It must be suffocated by the “nice” storyline, instead.
The “Shy Narc” wants only to be viewed in the most flattering light, even if that’s at the expense of someone else.
That’s not so nice, is it?
Don’t Pay Any Attention to Me.
Here’s a fun one.
Bashful, for all intents and purposes, is attention-seeking. Yet this Shy Narc will INSIST ON their Shyness, that they don’t need, or want, any attention, whatsoever. They insist they are content, humble, and happy with their lives and how things are going.
But poke- or wait- around a little longer, and soon enough, ulterior motives and manipulation will pop up.
If Bashful is, indeed, truly ignored, like he or she claimed they wanted to be, eventually, an entitled resentment will surface. Bashful fully believes he or she is such an exemplary, unique human being, that it’s only inevitable they will be discovered to be the stars they are.
So, when that doesn’t happen on the Shy Narcissist’s timetable and precisely according to specification, “Houston, we have a problem!”
Bashful is now offended and a smidge more desperate. The Shy Narc’s very real need for attention, acclaim and praise is not getting met.
Now what?
Bashful has already painted himself/herself in a corner by insisting, “No, don’t pay any attention to me.”
So, people oblige that request.
But that’s not what was supposed to happen. That was merely the cue for others to be mesmerized by Bashful’s niceness, star quality and, of course, humility, so much so, that they cannot help but gush over the Shy Narc.
And, since that is not happening, Bashful doesn’t give a moment’s pause for self-reflection. Nope. Instead, he/she doubles down with a Machiavellian approach: “the ends justify the means.”
Oh, boy, now we’re really having fun!
Bashful, instead of taking stock of things and owning their actions, merely looks around for a way to make the attention they crave happen.
And what’s the best way to go for that? By manipulating others to do your bidding!
YAY!
It’s more subtle than it sounds. In fact, not all Shy Narcissists are fully aware and intentional of the manipulative tactics they employ. Often, it’s unconscious. Yet the damage is still done. Bashful, knowingly or unknowingly, determines that other people will serve as the vehicles or the tools for their unfulfilled wishes.
The phrase, “living vicariously through another” springs to mind.
And indeed, that’s what happens. Bashful wants whatever he/she wants.
But this Shy Narcissist doesn’t want to let go of an image that is incongruent with that desire. Therefore, manipulation of another person must occur, so that Bashful’s reputation as a nice, humble, sweet individual stays intact.
Personally, I experienced this as I pursued the goals of a Shy Narc, doing the grunt work of achieving those realized dreams, while Bashful simply stayed behind the scenes, safely tucked away from criticism or judgment, never putting themselves out there. They were validated as I achieved their goals.
No muss, no fuss.
I’m a Helpless Victim.
Bashful is often oblivious to the harm he/she causes. Part of their “no muss, no fuss” conclusion, or any other Machiavellian conclusion, for that matter, emanates from their victim mentality vantage point. They are the only victims, ergo, they are entitled to whatever they want, especially if they perceive themselves to be “nice.”
For Shy Narc’s, being helpless is part of their allure. Look at the image of Snow White’s Bashful dwarf. Look at that face. Does it not scream, “Help me, love me, take pity on me?”
One rationale of a Shy Narc’s mindset dovetails into another, seamlessly.
“I’m ‘nice,’ ergo, I must tell you I don’t want attention (even though that’s all I can think about), ergo, I’m a helpless victim.”
Here’s where the puppy dog eyes come out. Here’s where Bashful elicits sympathy.
Yet, the Shy Narcissist is not interested in getting help to get better. It’s quite the contrary, in fact. Bashful wants help because 1) It’s attention, 2) It’s validating they are important, and 3) They don’t want to do the hard or the unpleasant work, themselves, when it’s much easier to have you and I do it for them.
This, again, can be part of the “vicariously through another” phenomena. They want the “perks” without the “work.”
Well, we’d all enjoy that, wouldn’t we?
The difference between us and Bashful is that we know we need to work for what we want, while the Shy Narcissist thinks they’re “owed it,” simply because of who they are as a person.
“Why do it if someone will do it FOR me?”
Once again, Bashful requested I “help” them. I had no problem, initially, with helping. That was, until I saw how they completely stepped away and allowed me to do all the work.
That’s not help.
Bashful, however, doesn’t see it that way. They only see themselves as getting what they want.
And if it takes being helpless, while having someone else do all the work to make that happen, so be it.
You are Always Wrong; I’m Always Right.
Again, there’s more dovetailing going on; one thought dissolves into another. And, it seems, at the epicenter of all Shy Narcissistic thoughts exists this one doozy: “You are Always Wrong; I’m Always Right.”
Whoa. Okay…
Yes, this seems to be the foundational principle of any Narcissist. However, the Shy Narcissist, our very own Bashful, corners the market on weaponizing it against us.
“You are Always Wrong; I’m Always Right.”
You can just feel the impasse from here, can’t you?
Yes, our nice, helpless, victim-y Bashful appears to use that perspective concerning any stance we take with him or her. This is especially the case if we disagree with Bashful and do not operate according to their dictates and wishes. Whenever we “disobey” them, it’s usually not too long before we hear (or feel) this decree, stated outright or implied.
In my many encounters with a Bashful, I’ve been confronted with this reality the most when, quelle surprise, I was asserting my own boundaries. Yes, how DARE I take care of myself! The ultimate sin, at least, according to the Shy Narcissist.
Back in “the good ‘ole days,” asserting my boundaries had more to do with not attending a social engagement, one in which my presence was “a must.”
However, now, within the past two years, I see, more clearly, this sentiment and its attempts at coercion and manipulation, as I prioritize my health, within the context of my cancer diagnosis. Ah, yes. Now, things take on more significance. Life or death, depending upon how I choose to take care of myself.
Most people, you would think, would “get” the need to take care of oneself regarding cancer.
But Shy Narcissists? Not so much. They’re still operating under the principle, “You are Always Wrong; I’m Always Right.”
So, with that line of thinking, further buoyed by thoughts like, “I’m nice, I’m helpless, and I need to get attention in a sneaky way,” you can see how, not even cancer, holds up.
Again, look at the eyes on Bashful. The Shy Narcissist wants you and I to believe that they are most important, the most in need, the most deserving of all attention. Never mind our life-threatening disease. We’re wrong. They’re right.
End of discussion.
I enjoy the lies and the drama I create.
Bold is not a word you’d apply to Bashful. “Bold,” by its very definition, is the opposite of the word, “Shy.”
And that’s exactly how our Shy Narcissist wants you to think about it. Bashful’s sneakiness allows him/her to bask in some stealth power plays.
Make a fuss. Create a crisis. Act helpless. Elicit sympathy or pity. Get someone else fighting for you, doing the work. Sit back, looking every bit the nice, helpless victim. Enjoy watching other people fight over you, fight with each other, while you, Bashful, keep your hands clean, confidently, boldly, thinking things like…
…I’m safe…
…I’m untouchable…
…No one is any the wiser.
Shy Narcissists are not direct. And, any kind of delusional boldness in these statements, mentioned above, has to do with their cowardice and their evasive, fear of confrontation, communication and truth. They are viewed and described by their masks of nice, sweet and helpless.
And, all the while, they believe themselves to be far superior to any mere mortal who engages with them.
“Never wrestle with pigs. You both get dirty and the pig likes it.”
George Bernard Shaw
This quote is often used to depict the futility of engaging with a Narcissist.
But I believe, in the case of a Shy Narcissist, Bashful views himself/herself as better than the mud pit. They won’t even get in; they won’t wrestle. That’s what other people are for.
Use as needed.
And, as long as we are willing participants, doing just that, Bashful is content and entertained. Bashful can keep believing he/she is better than us dirty pigs, rolling around in the muck.
Check Your Own Bashful Self…
And, while we’re talking about superiority, let’s do a little reality check on ourselves.
There is no inoculation for Narcissism. None of us are above having some Shy Narcissist tendencies. I say that, not to induce despair, but to promote healthy self-awareness.
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
If we’re truly honest, we’ve all been a little “Bashful” from time to time. Perhaps we thought that being nice would work to our advantage. Maybe we’ve played the helpless card.
Or, even better still, maybe we think we’re always right about something, “and everyone else…” is wrong.
See yourself in any of this?
It’s okay. They say that honesty is the best policy. Start there. You can be uncomfortable, nervous, and disgusted by your behavior.
And then, you can change it.
Be direct. Be earnest. Be real. Be honest.
And, if you see any tendency toward manipulation, coercion or toxic victimhood…
Don’t be shy about it. Deal with it.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“I’ll Call You”
In Narcissistic circles, we often hear about the concept of future faking. It can be the overpromise of a commitment involving relationship, marriage, family, or money. It essentially asserts, “Just hang in there. It’ll happen. I promise.”
Only, it never quite seems to manifest, does it?
Let’s take it to a much simpler promise. How about the promise of basic communication?
Does someone keep telling you and I, “I’ll call you?”
You know, someone who keeps making and breaking appointments, always with an excuse, always with a “reason.” Yes, sure, life happens. The unexpected happens. Emergencies happen. But if it KEEPS happening, at every turn, something else is going on, isn’t it?
Here is where sayings like, “We make the time for what is important to us,” and “Don’t make someone a priority who makes you an option” pop up.
I, once again, return to a family relic which has served me well as an educational tool: a hunk of Fool’s Gold. It looks shiny. It looks like “the real thing.” But it can deliver on nothing more than its very name: “Fool’s Gold,” the illusion of something precious, in the eye of the beholder. And, oftentimes, when that is us in this scenario, we feel like a fool.
So, why? Why is there the tactic of “I’ll call you” when it comes to the Future Faking maneuver?
Here are a few of my theories. Kick them around and see if anything resonates.
They don’t care.
This can be a startling wakeup call for us. It seems inconceivable that the Narcissist wouldn’t care. And it’s not necessarily because we’re naïve. Rather, it has more to do with the fact that we are mistaking our caring and empathetic selves for their uncaring selves. Yes, we’re projecting, only we’re believing the best, instead of the worst, in the person.
We need to constantly remember that how we’d respond, how we’re moved with compassion to others may not, indeed, be another’s like response.
And how much more so if we are dealing with a Narcissist. They view things more through a self-focused lens. “Others” just are not as important; if fact, often, they are viewed as simply expendable in a Narcissist’s eyes.
Concerning communication, therefore, there is not the reciprocity. Phone calls, direct messages, emails, and texts, in the Narcissist’s eyes, all have the luxury of being ignored. It’s just not important. End of story.
Nothing personal.
It’s nothing personal, because our Narcissist simply doesn’t rate it as significant. They do not care.
So, that’s one big why. Ready for another?
They get something from our time and attention. (They enjoy the power of being unavailable).
Narcissistic supply is defined as the energy, the fuel, the attention a Narcissist gets when they engage with us.
And if we are sincerely invested in the relationship, trying to make it work, out of love, out of a need to help or be there for that person, then the scales of power are imbalanced.
And make no mistake, the Narcissist LOVES that imbalance, in their favor. Power and control over another person are big, big, big in the eyes of this abusive type. They revel in holding power over someone. It’s often why many Narcissists gravitate to positions of power, like politics, law enforcement and highly public platforms which garner much attention. They enjoy the attention the “perks” being. They enjoy being able to decide what happens to “the little people.”
Ego stroking is just too appealing. They cannot deny themselves any and every opportunity to engage in it.
And how this translates to the “I’ll call you” of phones calls and assorted communication relates, again, to the power imbalance that comes with being unreachable, “un-gettable,” “too important” to speak with a mere mortal by phone.
They like the chase. They like being wanted and pursued. It feeds their delusional ego, reassuring them that yes, they are important, special, “different.” They don’t need to abide by the rules that the rest of us must follow. They are too much of a star to be bothered. Our sincere desire, attempts, love, and desperate willingness to be there and to connect with the Narcissist further cement their grandiose sense of self.
Yes, they are the master; we are the slave. Never the two shall change. The worship is, therefore, owed them.
They are cowards.
Often, Narcissists take the easy way out. Ever notice that?
They often avoid uncomfortable situations, possess endless excuses, and employ other people, a/k/a, “Flying Monkeys,” to do their dirty work.
Narcissists, it appears, cannot be bothered with one-on-one, direct, open communications. They may reason, again, they are too important, too busy, too special to stoop to such lowly and unrewarding behavior. It’s beneath them.
But I believe it has more to do with cowardice. It takes moral character, strength and facing one’s fear of difficult confrontations to have an open, honest dialogue. Whether that’s a breakup, for which the Narcissist may “ghost” that person, just disappear, without any explanation, or “delegate” an awkward firing of an employee to one of the Narcissist’s underlings, the communication never seems to be direct, eye-to-eye.
And a phone call? Forget it! Again, they may reassure, “I’ll call you,” but it’s sporadic, at best, isn’t it? And, if a call is returned, it may take on a rushed tone, even further underscored with their superiority over our inferiority. In any case, if there’s an important matter or issue that needs to be addressed, it rarely, if ever, happens. The Narcissist, in one way or another, slips out of the phone call.
Indeed, the “I’ll call you” real moment is just too real, with too much discomfort; it strikes their insecure nerves. And remember, a Narcissist does not want to be reminded of his/her insecurity. Yes, it already permeates their entire being, but denial is a right a Narcissist may believe himself/herself to inherently possess. They get to pretend and play by their own rules, while “the rest of us” must deal with reality.
These are potentially a few explanations, attempting to answer the confusing “why” questions a Narcissist often leaves behind in the wake. But let’s really get to an uncomfortable explanation. And this speaks to our participation in the dysfunctional dance.
Why are we here?
Why do we believe the lie of “I’ll call you?”
We’re being abused and mistreated.
No, we didn’t deserve mistreatment or abuse. Nevertheless, we, somehow, put up with it, don’t we? We give chance after chance. We constantly check our emails, text messages, and phones. We believe “this time will be different.”
And it never seems to be different.
We hang on like this, perhaps, because we’ve been trained to do so.
Many of us have come from abusive backgrounds. We’re accustomed to bad treatment, a lack of accountability, and personal responsibility. We’re used to lies, chaos, and broken promises. That doesn’t mean we like it; it merely means we’re used to it. It’s the familiar.
But, within the context of future faking’s “I’ll call you” faulty promise, it is, nevertheless, Fool’s Gold. It looks solid and shiny, but it’s not the real thing.
And no amount of us wishing or wanting or hoping it will be so will make it so.
One of the most painful, most difficult things for each of us to accept is this: concerning some people, abusers included, we need to admit that they mean more to us than we do to them. And that’s not a healthy love, family or friend dynamic. Relationships involve reciprocity, dignity, and a mutual give-and-take respect.
And that includes the caring follow through of the communication ping pong game.
“I’ll call you…”
The actions match those uttered words. Period.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“Hey, Reactive Abuse Trees! Our Reaction is a Positive Move!” addresses the power of our responses to abuse.
To us, recovering from abuse: I address our reactions.
Most of us, since we were children, were introduced to “The Wizard of Oz.” We accompany Dorothy from Kansas, her dog, Toto, and her newly acquired friends of Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion, all while pursuing the Wizard in this fantastical land called Oz.
Remember when, as they’re all traveling down the yellow brick road, they encounter a forest of trees? These trees were abundant in delicious, shiny, red apples. And our beloved characters were hungry. Therefore, Dorothy went about some apple picking.
And here was where we learned we were “not in Kansas anymore.”
The trees were alive-and not thrilled with being picked apart.
These trees fought back. They screamed, voiced their displeasure, and chewed out our heroine and her friends.
A case of reactive abuse, perhaps?
No one knows their anthropomorphic tree backstory. We don’t know how many other times, how many other clueless yokels, freshly fallen off from assorted turnip trucks, picked apples from their branches, thinking it was no big deal.
“The trees look like regular trees,” they reason.
Nothing new to see here.
How many of us can raise our branches and admit to struggling with reactive abuse?
How many of us have been repeatedly mistreated, abused, gaslit, and messed with, to the point of exhaustion, mounting frustration, and full-blown rage? It can be experienced from one person or one specific relationship, or its final straw can happen at a seemingly random encounter with a stranger.
Regardless, we have hit a saturation point.
Our apples have been picked one too many times now. We have had it!
Now I love Dorothy. I dressed up as her as a kid for Halloween. I love the other characters, “Toto, too!”
(Sorry, had to say it).
I am all about these individuals finding their way through Oz, getting their answers and their dreams realized.
But I also feel empathy for the “bad trees.”
As children, when we first watch the movie, we don’t see the trees’ perspective. We may see the scene as funny or scary. The trees seem “mean” to our childlike selves.
Now, however, as adults, and as abuse/trauma survivors, perhaps, we see the trees’ perspective. These trees had the trauma of reactive abuse.
When someone is disempowered to repeatedly “take it,” time and time again, eventually, there is a snapping. The branch snaps; the mind snaps. The patience snaps. The “good nature” snaps.
The abused tree, that is you and I, is DONE!
“You’re not a tree. You can move.”
I have heard this statement within the past few years. It speaks to the capacity for change, hopefully, healthy change.
It speaks to us going from disempowered to empowered, taking command of our lives.
Many of us get stuck arguing with this sentiment. Our tree selves, all too well know, from personal experience, we have felt stuck, paralyzed, and trapped.
How, exactly, are we supposed to move, anyway?
The Rooted Lie:
Our life experience has often been blue gingham abuser after blue gingham abuser. It’s easier to settle into the stuck-ness, accepting the limitations of being a tree, instead of making forward movement.
“I have no choice but to endure this.”
We can get rooted into this state of being, feeling our apples dying on the branches. So many of us have been raised and taught that there is only one way to live and be in our lives. We don’t have choice. This is all there is. Generations and status quo of the same way of living spread now to us and determine our fate. Done deal.
It looks like there’s no room to move, doesn’t it?
The Moving Truth:
But movement can start with the challenge thought; challenge what is possible.
“I deserve healing. It will be a messy process, but I’m worth it.”
Reactive abuse can be a part of that mess.
We react… eventually to the lying limitations that are trying to get forced upon us.
The people and the experiences, our home forests, attempt to dictate, through abusive and limiting behaviors. They try to convince us that being poked at, with the constant stifling of maltreatment and minimization, is normal… and these experiences are the evidence that our lives are as they should be.
Don’t move. Just take it.
And we react.
But it can be a sign of health and healing.
For here is where some of the roots at least, begin, to get dealt with. They may not be uprooted right here, right now, but awareness can show us the things that strangle us.
It can all start when, from our rooted vantage point, we look around at the rest of the landscape. We see there is more, at least, in theory.
Even if we have not experienced it as such, we can move to challenge the thought, and accept there is more… for us
So, we move to awareness that healing needs to take place. And we are closer to healing because of that awareness.
The Rooted Lie:
“I am trapped/stuck.”
We can believe that, just because we have been in an abusive dynamic for a certain period of time, that situation is all we will ever experience.
And, if we are being poked and picked at, within this oppressive context, yes, reaction will occur. The trapped creature will snarl and bite if it is cornered.
Feel cornered?
As we are in this state, we are not concentrating on what is at our disposal.
We cannot see our apples, at the ready, to come to our defense.
The Moving Truth:
“I have an opportunity to heal here.”
Those apples? Some examples can be one different person in our status quo life, one book, and the concept of, at least, at first, therapy as reality.
We move being open to those kinds of options. And that movement is solidified.
Do one thing. We do one thing.
We acknowledge, reach for, grab a shiny apple, even in the middle of our reactive abuse. It moves us forward if we can hurl that apple of education, support, and new information at the abuse. We move as we recognize there is the reality of healing opportunity here.
It’s not just for the masses; it’s not just for “other people.”
It’s for us.
The Rooted Lie:
“It’s hopeless/I’m a failure.”
Reactive abuse, on our part, can often occur when our response is not met with the satisfying validation we so crave and need.
Of course, our abusive situation is not interested in giving us any credence or credibility. Why would they? What would be in it for them?
Poking and picking at us is working for them. Why mess up a good thing?
We can get caught in a cycle of believing that the constant torture is the same thing as our perceived inherent failure status. After all, what is the evidence around us telling us otherwise? Where is it?
And that can be a recipe for a reaction, a sharp reaction.
Our sharp reaction to the pokes and the prodding, not surprisingly, can attempt to tell us that our reaction is a failed, wrong action on our part. We can get shamed for challenging the abuse. The issue is more about challenging the status quo, often filled with injustices. We do that, and we get punished for it.
How dare we use our apples to defend ourselves against our attackers?
The Moving Truth:
“If feels hopeless, yes, there’s failure built into this process, but I am not hopeless and a failure.”
We can, however slowly and gradually, embrace that our reaction, our reactive abuse to abuse, is not so much a failure, but rather, it can be a move, a healthy move. Perfection is not required, nor is it the guaranteed result of our movement. Being perfect, however, is often a must from our abusive sources. The pressure can be too daunting to even attempt. If we do not attempt, we do not move. We are easy to control, as we try, in vain, to be perfect.
And control is a goal of those who practice abuse.
We can change how we view our supposedly immovable tree natures and the shiny red apples we possess. If we use our movements, our attempts, our failures, and our decisions to keep at it, imperfectly, over the course of our lives, no matter the issue or the era, we can change and empower ourselves. We choose, by moving, that we are making ongoing progress, rather than writing ourselves off as hopeless failures.
Our reactions to the debilitating abuse we have suffered can be the lit fuse to a changed life.
And it takes a lifetime to do that.
No shortcut sprinting here. It’s the longer, daily marathon.
You and I are Trees AND We Can Move!
It can be oversimplification and inaccurate to view ourselves as the angry trees, throwing apples, in “The Wizard of Oz.” Reactive abuse is a no-win situation. It’s constructed that way. How many of us were trying to live our lives and mind our business, within a hostile relationship or environment?
We didn’t start any fight; we had no interest in engaging in a fight. We wanted peace, love, dignity, and a healthy sense of self. However, the situations we found ourselves in decided, that, no, that would not happen. It was “decided” by someone else that we would be in the defense position; that was status quo normal, according to the abusive individuals we were trying to survive.
Abuse is not a “one and done.” It is repetitive, daily, hourly, constant, with, seemingly, no end in sight.
Faced with that outlook, who, amongst us, would not react, right?
We are trees, strong, beautiful, examples of Divine Creation. AND we have, within us, the capacity to react, when pushed and prodded.
Before we berate ourselves, let’s pause and reflect…
Did my reaction occur because tension, pain, and chaos were building?
Was what was building in this situation unhealthy, harmful, and abusive?
How unrealistic is it for me to expect a perfect reaction from myself in an adverse situation?
How unlikely was it that the matter could have been resolved in a healthy and constructive manner?
Was this provoking behavior, that produced my reaction, ongoing?
Our anger and our reaction to abuse, can, like the scene in “The Wizard of Oz,” produce evidence that yes, we are trees, AND we can move!
We can take action, using the very thing that has been picked from us.
We ARE trees AND we CAN move!
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“Why Not? Writing Down the Pain; Writing Freedom” explores the power of writing about painful trauma.
I came across the sentiment recently:
“Please do not write upon this page.”
“Why not?”
As a writer, I love this. As an abuse survivor, it’s a further call to action. Indeed, writing “on this page” has helped me heal, time and time again.
But come on, you and I know it’s not that simple, right?
Why is that? What’s stopping us from “writing it down?”
What are We Afraid Of?
Well, perhaps…
We are afraid of remembering the terror and the pain.
We are afraid of being discouraged:
We are afraid of making it fact (real).
We are afraid writing this down will constitute the entirety of who we are.
If we have gone through painful trauma and loss, most of the time, we tend not to want to remember and think about it. We can self-medicate, self-isolate, avoid, and shut down. Here’s usually where addictions and unhealthy relationships can factor in. Here’s where we usually want to numb ourselves. Here’s where we usually don’t want it recorded forever.
“Please do not write upon this page.”
Only, very often, the word, “please” is negated. It is a demand, not a request.
“Do not write upon this page.”
That demand can come from other people, abusive people, even. But, perhaps, more significantly, it is self-imposed. We don’t just plead within ourselves not to make something that is horrific, become permanent and real for us. We can often demand it not be so.
That’s what I did with some of the deepest traumatic events in my life. It first started with my eating disorder behavior and then extended to mistreatment from toxic relationships. I did not want to admit it was real. For the longest time, I did not record the truth of what I was doing in my diary. Despite my erratic weight fluctuations, despite the interventions on my behalf, despite my compromised values and my low self-worth, trusting the wrong people, believing what those harmful people said to me, I could not accept it or write about it. I did not want it to be real. I did not want what was happening to be my life.
Somehow, therefore, I reasoned, that if I could just leave my voice, through the written word, out of it, it would not exist. Better yet, I could make every trace of it go away, and rewrite my history, all by refusing to write at all!
“Do not write upon this page.”
It was a set up for failure. Gradually, my refusal to accept and express my truth translated into a complete loss of my voice. I mistakenly believed that not writing the pain down would empower me. I thought I wouldn’t be held captive by it. I would overcome it. The exact opposite, however, happened when I refused to write it down. I felt I had no release valve. I was the silencing jailor.
That’s a hopeless place to reside. I hadn’t counted on that being the case.
It took me years to first, admit, and then, write about what happened to me. I convinced myself it didn’t happen, or at least, wasn’t “that bad.” It was too painful and scary to write about it. The thought of doing so threatened a certain self-image of myself, one that I did not want to let go of. That self-image was, largely proclaiming how I was not messed up. I was not struggling; I had it together. I was “the good girl.”
Much of the difficulty accepting my truth hinged on the eating disorder stigma, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. The disorder was a symptom of something more significant, meaning, my “messed-upness” of emotional disturbances and unmet needs that were far from neat and tidy, far from elegant or pretty. And I wanted to look and BE attractive, pulled together, strong, and immune to having deep-seated problems that, yes, required professional treatment.
Write It: Why Not?
“…the truth shall set you free.”
John 8:32
Imagination can often be worse than our reality. Living in a world of catastrophizing and avoiding instead of practicing the radical acceptance of “what is,” we, perhaps, can feel safer and more in control. Our self-image is protected.
Or is it?
I’m sure you’ve heard a version of the saying, “the truth will set you free, but first, it will upset you.” It’s that sense of being destabilized that can liberate us. It wrecks the lie of human perfection; there is no such thing. It shocks us out of idealization which can harm us, especially concerning abusive situations and people. It reminds us that, yes, life can be brutal, unfair, and painful.
But, while it is these things, we have beauty, purpose, and value simply being in the world.
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
Looking at documentation of the good, the bad, the ugly, and the pretty, can help us to keep things in perspective. Our written word, in the moment, is a way to release poison and emotion. In hindsight, our written word can be viewed, perhaps, more objectively, through the lens of time and “lessons learned.”
You and I don’t need to be Dickinson, Shakespeare, or Steinbeck. We need to be honest, as ourselves with our lives. It can have humble beginnings like stabbing the paper passionately because we’re despondent about our trauma. It can be deeply encoded, cryptic, and mysterious poetry, whether it rhymes or not.
The writing is first about us, then others. And if we want to help others, truth, brutal truth, is mandatory. Lies set no one free, especially if we insist on telling them, or operating with “lies of omission.”
Everyone is on their own timetable. But knowing there will be a time when truth is told can be approached as liberating, not imprisoning.
“Therefore, whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops.”
Luke 12:3
It has to do with our perception of it.
Therefore, let’s perceive freedom and liberation as we write. We deserve both in our lives.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
