Monthly Archives: May 2021

Release the flying monkeys (or, narcissists never get their groove back)

27 Thursday May 2021

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Narcissists have an uncanny understanding of others and can always be counted on to find some ally somewhere whom they can convince of the lies that the narcissist believes about themselves

I’ve been listening to the How Stella Got Her Groove Back audiobook at bedtime for a few nights now. Stella is a 42 year old divorcee single mom who goes to Jamaica to get away from her stressful like and ends up meeting a man half her age even though she really wasn’t going there to meet a man. It just so happens I am also a 42 year old divorcee single mom and I am going to Jamaica this summer to get away from my stressful life and I’m really not going there to meet a man. I’m waiting to see how the book ends (literally and figuratively)

Taye Diggs looking okay I guess

Life has been stressful and I’m ready for some beautiful beaches and reggae and guided tours of marijuana farms. I’ve had flying monkeys coming at me from multiple directions. I speak, of course, of the vampire-narc’s flying monkeys. The people in their lives that do their dirty work for them, like they did for the Wicked Witch of the West.

Hmm, well now I’m mixing together vampires and witches and that just isn’t fair to witches. Oh well. Apologies to the witches reading this (and their allies). Now where was I? Yes, I’ve had some different flying monkeys using differing tactics this month. One was the nice kind and the other was the malicious, aggressive kind. Harassing and fairly incoherent texts were received. A slight twinge of feeling betrayed followed by a sadness for my children that this is the world they live in. One where vampires are common and hard to spot sometimes. A world where vampires make more vampires.

I have to say I’ve had many, many monkeys sent after me over the years but they’ve always been the nice kind. They try to lure you back into the orbit of the narcissist with flattery, defending the narcissist, encouraging you to try again, and guilt tripping. Looking back, it’s truly mind blowing the sheer number of monkeys and how unlikely some were (because glamour). I’d be impressed if it weren’t for the fact it is an act of manipulation by the very old undead creatures that they use to feed on humans longer and, therefore, not something to be impressed by. Disturbed yes. Repulsed yes. Impressed no. But the monkeys were always nice then. Having an attack monkey sent after you is something else entirely.

So, I shooed the little flying primate away and blocked it from texting me and told its vampire to keep it on a leash. Which they said they’d do (although see here for why I shouldn’t believe them). The same sorts of things that kill vampires kill flying monkeys too. Not engaging in their imbecilic drama, pointing out reality, being rational. They’re simple creatures. Just annoying at times.

The vampire in question made the right call moving from nice flying monkeys to mean ones. I see the vampire for what they are and no amount of flattery or manipulation or guilt trips or empty promises of a glittering future from a flying monkey will change that. Not anymore. Fool me once shame on you; fool me twice shame on me; fool me daily for nine years, that’s one very big therapy bill. But I am the fool no more.

So, let the very old, tired looking undead creature send their mean monkeys with their angry confusing text messages. I have plenty of sage and selenite to clear the energy after I delete them. And a little reggae and a good book will take my mind off of it nicely.

The first rule of vampire fight club (or, Repent! for the end is near)

25 Tuesday May 2021

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A scrub is a guy that thinks he’s fly
And is, also known as a buster
Always talking about what he wants
And just sits on his broke ass, so

-TLC “No Scrubs”

I was watching a nostalgic show recently about movies in the ’90s. Dances With Wolves, Thelma and Louise, Austin Powers, Titanic, Being John Malkovich. So many good movies. And of course, Fight Club.

“The first rule of fight club is you do not talk about fight club. The second rule of fight club is you do not talk about about fight club.” Who could forget that one?

And as I’m watching it, I think, “the first rule of dealing with narcs is to keep in mind they’re pathological liars. The second rule is, keep in mind they’re pathological liars.”

If you’re not a vampire-narc, you don’t lie constantly. All damn day long. You don’t look someone in the eye and just balls out lie. So, it’s hard to keep in mind. Some of their lies are so absurd it’s obvious. But many are not. After all, this vampire-narc may have been lying like this for almost 50 years. Half a century. That’s a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive. Much longer than you’ve been alive.

Ah but I digress. If you’re a normal human being you have to constantly remind yourself. It’s difficult and annoying but it is the one absolutely essential thing to remember when slaying vampires. They will lie to scare you, lie to manipulate you, lie to make themselves look good/fit/smart/successful/a great parent/ a good Christian/a victim/ someone who hasn’t cheated on their partner. Sometimes they lie for no reason at all other than the fact they’re pathological liars and liars gonna lie.

The interesting part is when you catch them lying and confront them. They will use every narc trick in the book to distract you: word salad, projection, what about-isms, insults, false equivalence, triangulation, glittering generalities, flattery, threats and of course, more lies. Internally, they are panicking. You see, the vampire-narc is him or herself a lie. A walking talking lie appearing to be a human being. Recall from my previous posts, the narc is in fact a really old blood sucking undead creature who devotes constant energy to pretending to be human and in perpetual need of the life force of actual humans to survive and keep up the lie. So, when you call them out, it destroys them. Their entire sense of self collapses and they begin being sucked into the black hole of shame that lies deep within them where an actual person should be.

They panic and roll through all the defenses I referred to above. They will begin piling on more lies. And as you make it clear there is no way getting out of this, that they are busted, they move on to defending themselves, making excuses, minimizing, attacking you and, of course, more lies. Always more lies. Someone get out the circa 1870 guy on stilts because some gas lamps are about to get lit.

But when none of that works and you walk away and leave them alone with themselves, they realize there is a stake in their chest. They assume you put it there. In reality, they’re the ones who put it there. But, projection, ya know? Nothing is their fault. Most of all, their destruction. Hopefully them make it to their coffin in time and they can sleep it off and send that memory express delivery to the narcissistic amnesia mail room. If not, it ain’t pretty.

Some would call it karma. Others, the natural consequences of their actions. Vampire-narcs don’t learn from mistakes, so it’s definitely not a painful opportunity for personal growth. Some would say it’s the wrath of God, but Jesus surrounded himself with lepers and prostitutes and liars so I have to assume he has love even for vampires and narcissists. They’ll probably go to hell since they’re not capable of repenting but I don’t think He’s the type to punish them while they’re still undead.

Whatever it is, it is a dark spiral. But we mustn’t let pity keep us from calling them out on their lies. They’re very good at playing the victim and seeking attention and pity using more lies. We can’t fall for it. Vampires are dangerous predators with strong powers of glamouring and we must stand up to them in the name of truth and love and life. Vampires make more vampires. We can’t tolerate it.

So, remember, the first rule of dealing with vampire-narcs is to keep in mind they’re pathological liars and the second rule is to keep in mind they’re pathological liars. It is the foundation of defeating the very old undead among us. Without it, they win. If we can keep it in mind and call them out, they will eventually not make it to their coffins in time and will have to face who they really are. And they will realize, they don’t actually exist.

Aqua Tofana, the cunning woman’s divorce

24 Monday May 2021

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I recently asked a patient how their Mother’s Day had been and they replied, not good. Their mother had found out her partner had been slowly poisoning her. I asked them if this person seemed the poisoning type, any history of violence or mental illness? No, they responded. It was a total shock. And I thought to myself, why would someone poison their spouse instead of just divorcing them? And then I thought about what divorce is like and I wasn’t as stumped.

My friend told me about a prominent pastor who’d slowly poisoned his wife and made it appear as though she had a terrible chronic disease so he could garner attention and sympathy (narcissist much?). Another friend related to me a tale of a man who had poisoned his wife (by slipping it into her prenatal vitamins) right before she got into her car, hoping to make it look like a car accident but the poison kicked in too quickly and he was caught.

And then a friend told me the tale of Aqua Tofana.

olden times drawing of Aqua Tofana bottle

Giulia Tafana lived in 17th century Italy. She made cosmetics and holy oils for women by trade. But, she also helped over 600 women kill their husbands with a poison she made called Aqua Tofana. She succeeded for decades but in 1659 she and her daughter Girolama Spara were put to death for their crimes. Well, by one account anyway. Another has Tofana dying peacefully of old age and her daughter taking over the family business.

Spara operated as a kind of “cunning woman” who sold charms and cures to the gentlewomen and nobility of Rome. These activities would not only have introduced her to potential customers, but would also have given her a shrewd idea of which of her clients were happy in their marriages and which unhappy – not to mention which might be desperate enough to seek drastic remedies, and be able to keep a secret.

The thing to keep in mind is that in 17th century Europe, women had no rights. Your husband could beat and rape you as much as he pleased. Your father could pick your husband for you. Women had very little control over their lives and divorce was not a thing back then. What was a girl to do? Giulia Tofana had the answer.

Aqua Tofana was a unique poison. It was colorless and flavorless and only 4 drops was enough to kill a man (or, as the primmer source goes, “sufficient to destroy a man”). The wife would put the first drop in his food or wine and he would feel a bit off, a bit tired. Then in a a day or two she would slip him the second drop and he’d feel worse. By the third drop, he was vomiting and diarrheaing all over the place (which she probably had to clean up) and calling for the priest. And the final drop did him in.

Administered in wine or tea or some other liquid by the flattering traitress, [it] produced but a scarcely noticeable effect; the husband became a little out of sorts, felt weak and languid, so little indisposed that he would scarcely call in a medical man…. After the second dose of poison, this weakness and languor became more pronounced… The beautiful Medea who expressed so much anxiety for her husband’s indisposition would scarcely be an object of suspicion, and perhaps would prepare her husband’s food, as prescribed by the doctor, with her own fair hands. In this way the third drop would be administered, and would prostrate even the most vigorous man. The doctor would be completely puzzled to see that the apparently simple ailment did not surrender to his drugs, and while he would be still in the dark as to its nature, other doses would be given, until at length death would claim the victim for its own…

To save her fair fame, the wife would demand a post-mortem examination. Result, nothing — except that the woman was able to pose as a slandered innocent, and then it would be remembered that her husband died without either pain, inflammation, fever, or spasms. If, after this, the woman within a year or two formed a now connection, nobody could blame her; for, everything considered, it would be a sore trial for her to continue to bear the name of a man whose relatives had accused her of poisoning him.

She initially disguised it as cosmetics but soon moved to hiding it in holy oil bottles marked Manna of St. Nicholas of Barri. This was appropriate because a priest, Father Girolama, was getting them their supplies. (A crooked priest??? Shocking, I know, but it’s true). It was also appropriate because what gal doesn’t want jolly old St. Nick bringing her some Aqua Tofana? Slip a bottle of that potion under my tree, Santa!

Is there Aqua Tofana in Santa’s sack?

We don’t know if any of this is true, of course. The witch hunts were still going in the 17th century as part of a broad and violent effort to suppress female healers, midwives and artisans and craftspeople. Maria Mies refers to this process as Housewiferization . European women were being removed from the public sphere and confined to the prove sphere of the home. It’s possible the tale of Aqua Tofana is entirely a result of the times. But I think most women would like to think it’s true. Not because we’re homicidal, but because, well, patriarchy sucks. Being powerless sucks. Why shouldn’t those 17th century men have at least been a little afraid their wife might poison them if they treated her like shit?

We don’t have to poison our husbands these days. We can just divorce them. There’s less vomit to clean up. But it doesn’t make nearly as good a story.

Sources:

https://mikedashhistory.com/2015/04/06/aqua-tofana-slow-poisoning-and-husband-killing-in-17th-century-italy/

View at Medium.com

Of Bats and Vampire Slayers

19 Wednesday May 2021

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I was thinking about bats. You see, I’m part of a local group that is creating a community garden. My practice is sponsoring an herb garden (which I plan to name after Gwen ferch Ellis, the first woman killed for being accused of being a witch in Wales. She was, of course, an herbalist and traditional healer. Which was the point of the witch hunts: to get rid of midwives and female healers to make way for the new institution of modern medicine). But I digress! We discussed at the most recent meeting perhaps putting up a bat house since our town has quite a few of them. And so, that’s how I came to be thinking of bats as I drove into work this morning.

A family of vampires heads to their Air BnB

My next thought, naturally, was vampires. This idea that vampires can turn into bats and fly away and then turn back into a vampire. Of note, my vampire likes bats and has a bat box which I will be removing when I move back into the marital home after equitable distribution is complete. Ahhh I digress again! Maybe I need a snack so I can focus better.

So, what does this ability to go back and forth between being the blood sucking undead and a flying rat translate to in our narcissist analogy? If you’ve ever lived with a narcissist, you know.

When you finally leave a narcissist you find yourself spending a lot of time trying to explain to people who know you both that the narcissist is a very different person behind closed doors than they are when they’re in the outside world. Narcissists can be very charming (recall the glamouring) in order to get what they want. They have spent their entire lives (some for as long as 51 years–almost 52) studying human beings and learning how they should act in any given situation to get what they want. Often times what they want is to be admired. Or pitied (they are the ultimate victims when they want to be). Sometimes they want money. Sometimes they want a job. Sometimes they want to gain your trust in case they need you as a flying monkey later. (A flying monkey is different from a flying rat; we’ll get into that soon enough). In any case, they put tremendous energy into containing who they really are. They remain remarkably lifelike. When someone from their home then tells you, no, they’re actually a really old blood sucking undead creature, you find it hard to believe. You find them hard to believe. And then you remember how the vampire confided in you that his entire family has mental health issues. And you think, poor woman, out of her mind and thinking her wonderful husband is a very old blood sucking undead creature.

And so, when the vampire violates the PFA, you hold onto the warrant she went through hell to get and don’t serve it. And when you hear whisperings around town about it, you say “well it’s a he said, she said so we really can’t know. They’re probably both partially right. Divorces are like that.” Because who wants to believe a vampire lives in their neighborhood anyway? It’s really so much easier to take comfort in the glamouring and try not to think about it.

But as time goes on, the vampire can’t keep the image going. He is too entitled, too arrogant, too self-centered, too mentally ill to not begin to slip up. Rules don’t apply to him and neither do boundaries. So, one day he borrows something from your shed without asking while you’re not home. He knows better than, well, everyone, so he begins to challenge your authority in the local club you’ve been running for years that he just joined. And when you politely attempt to contain him, he pushes and pushes and pushes until his glamour starts to wear off and you realize how cold his hand is and how pale his skin. He does you favors you didn’t want him to do and then becomes upset when you don’t thank him. And you just generally begin to realize he’s full of shit.

And so, he must move on to another neighborhood. Another church. Another job. One where he can glamour again. In a cloud of smoke, he turns into a bat and takes flight in the night. He is the fastest, most beautiful flying rat you’ve ever seen. He eats more mosquitos than any bat. He has better sonar than any bat. And when he finds a new hunting ground, he lands and transforms back into a very old blood sucking undead creature with a large nose and an increasing number of gray hairs. And goes about glamouring again. All the people who rejected him in his old neighborhood fade away and he is happy once again and full of fresh, warm blood.

A woman with a bad haircut looks at the phone of a shirtless man, implying they’re a couple where the man has cheated

Vampires are lustful and very good with women. They cheat. And they think no one knows. But people do. And when the human they pretended to love finds out for a fact the vampire has cheated, she makes sure everyone in the neighborhood knows. And everyone in the church. And so, it’s good that he left before the humiliation began. There, in his new home, he is the image he wants to be. And this time, it will be different. This time, he will settle down and be almost human. For the vampire slayer that ruined him did not follow. He is safe from her here in his new home. and he’ll make sure not to take up with another one.

a prose poem on pandemic and human connection (or, angels knocking)

17 Monday May 2021

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My receptionist is back and I had an in office appointment today. Almost all of my appointments have been by phone since March 13, 2020, but even with the rare in office appointment, I would greet the patients and have them go into the room with me. Now, she roomed the patient and then I went in. Before I did, I did the doctor knock. That sort of quick, short littler knock you do as you’re opening the door. You pop your head in first and then walk into the room and give your excited greeting. I came really close to crying. I had no idea how much I missed that knock. That moment where you’re standing outside the door and you pause and prepare yourself mentally for what’s on the other side. Sometimes it’s a brief, happy moment. Sometimes it’s a frantic review of the chart that you really should have done sooner. Sometimes it’s a feeling of exhaustion and dread and “can I really make it through another patient today?” If it weren’t for this pandemic, for this seismic shift in how we do medicine, I would have never appreciated that knock, that moment, that island of time and place that is the outer edge of the intimate relationship between doctor and patient. There is joy in my bones right now. The quiet sound of angels singing. A feeling of home in my heart.

I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it I’m filled with a black hole of shame

17 Monday May 2021

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I was thinking this weekend about the concept of a vampire doing self affirmations like Stuart Smalley on Saturday Night Live. He sits in front of a mirror and tells his reflection “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me.” But then it occurred to me, vampires have no reflection.

Now, recall dear reader, I proposed vampires as a good analogy for narcissists (as have others). But if you back to the root of narcissism, the original narcissist, you must learn the story of Narcissus. In Greek mythology, Narcissus falls in love with own reflection, not realizing it is not someone else. He sits by the pool of water staring into his reflection until he either dies of desire or kills himself, depending what version you read. The whole idea of narcissism is that the narcissist has no true self and only exists as a reflection from other people.

So is my analogy doomed? I would argue it is not.

We all have a true self and a false self. Our inner identity and the one we present to the world. I some people there is very little difference. But in some, specifically the narcissist, the difference is so great, the true self essentially disappears over time leaving only the false self. When we look in a mirror, we see ourselves for when we truly are. There are no selfie filters, no distractions. Try just sitting and staring into a mirror for five minutes straight sometime and tell me how it made you feel. It’s hard to do. It’s hard for any of us to sit with who we really are. But for a narcissist, it is impossible. They will cease to exist. Because there is no true self. It died long ago when they became vampires. With no true self there to cast a reflection, the narcissist faces a blank mirror. They can create their false self there through delusions, projection, grandiosity. But they will never have a true reflection.

They feed on their human prey to gain the narcissistic supply they need to maintain this false reflection. The more they get you to dislike your reflection, the true self, the more power they gain. The more they get you to doubt your reflection through gaslighting and the like, the more power they gain. And the more they can take from the young, the younger their reflection remains. Vampires may be okay with being old, but narcissists definitely are not.

Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? You better hope that mirror repeats the narcissist’s name back to them because if that mirror doesn’t keep up the lie of the false self, there will be poisoned apples in the works. And if your magical hair keeps up the illusion of eternal youth for the narcissist, good luck escaping that tower. It will be tall and filled with lies. The narcissist will never let you go. Unless, of course, you make sure they do.

Dracula may leave a trail of bodies, but in the end, he fades away into the sunlight and the heroine lives happily ever after (and hopefully gets treatment for what I assume would be a really bad case of PTSD). The princess’s plight seems hopeless, but there’s always a happy ending. She lets it go into the unknown and no one knows how far she’ll go and all those other Disney songs. She used to wait around for a prince but she has since figured out princes tend to be narcissists anyway and she’s better off doing it herself.

In the end, Narcissus can’t keep his reflection going. The water dries up. Or maybe the illusion. He dies and turns into a beautiful flower. That, dear reader, is where narcissus flowers come from. Because even from the destruction of narcissists, one can bloom into something beautiful and real. Those flowers are wondrous and gosh darn it, people like them. And they like you too. Just the way you are.

Never let a vampire in (of narcs and garlic, or narlic)

13 Thursday May 2021

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“Somewhere along the line we were taught that charismatic and charming people are somehow valuable or interesting … To me, charisma is like heavy perfume or cologne that someone wears when they don’t take a shower. It’s probably covering up something else.”

Dr. Ramani, clinical psychologist

“Unbeing dead isn’t being alive.”

EE Cummings, poet

“Just to be alive is grand thing.”

Agatha Christie, writer

They say that if you don’t invite a vampire in, they can’t cross your threshold. But what do you do if you’ve already let them in? How do you make a vampire go?

I have bells on my doorknobs and black tourmaline above my doorframes, salt in the corners of all my rooms. And I have a PFA that established my house as a vampire free zone from the beginning. But I am not free of my vampire.

The term glamour first arose in Scotland in the 18th century and initially meant a magical spell. In time it took on its more common usage today, “Exciting or mysterious attractiveness usually associated with striking physical beauty, luxury, or celebrity.” But it is also used as a verb in reference to vampires. It is said a vampire can control a human’s mind and get them to do whatever they want through the act of glamouring.

Vampires glamour you, you submit, they drain you of your blood and leave you for dead. Could there be a better analogy for narcissistic abuse? They are, above all, emotional vampires, constantly on the hunt for their next fix. But like vampires, they’re actually quite weak and vulnerable. Pathetic really. They depend on us for our blood since they are the undead and completely unable to create their own. And something as simple as garlic or sunlight or a good old stake to the heart can do them in.

They were once alive but another vampire made them into one themselves and the humanity in them is long dead. They’re miserable and hate themselves but are incapable of ending their own lives, so they roam the earth in search of prey. Hiding who they are, manipulating, killing, oftentimes making more vampires along the way.

Some people are better at spotting them than others. Some more willingly submit to glamouring. Some go their whole lives being fed on and never figure it out.

So, what do you do if you’ve let them in, and the glamour has worn off? How do you get rid of them? Let us consider our options.

Option 1: Garlic

Garlic is tasty and good for your heart and immune system. You could load up on marinara, roasted garlic, even garlic pills from your local pharmacy. As your body grows stronger and your spirit is lifted by the culinary joy, your vampire will be repelled. Vampires like their prey weak and dependent and miserable. Try hiding some under your bed to ward off unwanted sleep interruptions if his sexual dysfunction is on hold that night.

banish your vampire with heart healthy garlic

Option 2: Stake through the heart

A more dramatic and violent choice when garlic isn’t strong enough. Recommended forms include PFAs, divorce filings, healthy assertive statements, boundaries, truth, calling out lies, ignoring, and recognizing reality.

Option 3: Sunlight

Narc vampires often stay up quite late, restless, unable to quiet their minds and close their eyes to the ever present paranoid dangers of their world. They don’t generally sleep in coffins, but if they do, it is the *nicest* coffin you’ve ever seen. Literal daylight, however, does not weaken or kill them. They live in a different kind of darkness. They spend their time trying to pull the people in their lives into it, to starve out the light in them. The brighter you shine, the harder they try. Your light reminds them of what it means to be human, something they will never be again. They’d possess that light if they could, hold it inside and feel its warmth. But they can’t. They can only put it out. Their skin ever cold. The blood they consume losing all warmth the moment it touches their lips. But if you shine bright enough, if you let all that is good and beautiful and joyful and true come through, it’s too much for them. A solar eclipse that burns out their retinas. They realize they are too weak to put that light out. And they move on. They will try in vain. They don’t like to lose. But they will eventually be forced to seek out a new source to feed on or risk dying in the bright glow of the miracle that is you.

Knowing you are a miracle. Knowing you are amazing and wonderful and whole. That is how you get rid of a vampire. And God and all his Angels won’t be enough to protect him if he tries to make vampires of your little ones. Their blood is sweet but he is weak and dark and will be sent back from whence he came. And you will never ever make the same mistake again. Now you know what a vampire is and that you don’t have to let him in. And when he tries to glamour you, slam that door in his pasty face and get back to making your marinara. Just to be alive is a grand thing.