I just noticed something ironic about this blog. “Narcissism, Grief, Recovery, Yiddishkeit.” NGRY. I named my blog Angry! That’s too funny. Am I not allowed to have anything hidden? I am angry at David, my narcissist. I am angry at my parents who are negligent. I am angry at my sister for being four times as angry as me. (She’s completely unapproachable.) I am angry at God for … I don’t even know what. Why am I angry at God?
Because I didn’t get what I wanted. I didn’t get my way. (That’s real mature. Isn’t it?) Damn. I embarrass myself with my whining. I can hear some idiot’s voice chiding me to, “Go out and get what you want from life. Work for it.” That’s probably my mom’s voice, actually.
I know what I want. I want to live happily ever after in Israel with David, and I want him to stop being a narcissist.
I would have been such a good wife for him. Every time I did or spoke something cruel (because that’s the way I was raised), he corrected me. I do many things that are mean. For instance, I have a bitter tongue that can burn a man’s self-confidence like battery acid. I don’t want to be that way, but I have a temper. I was so stupidly in love with the narcissist, that I would do anything he said. He actually made me a better woman. He knew cruelty and would point it out to me in an instant. Then I would ponder, “Is that cruelty?”; arrive at the realization that it was; and immediately cease the behavior. In all my 47 years, only David made me want to be a better woman in that way. Whatever he asked of me, I was overjoyed to obey him… and I don’t obey people. The ones who love me the most call me “contrary” and it’s true. I am a stubborn, willful woman. By age 5 (after the rape), I had a fully formed personality that was stronger than many 50 year olds. That’s just the situation. Only David ever got me to negotiate or acquiesce, and it wasn’t something he did. I was just so happy to be near him that I would do anything to stay there. Anything.
But here’s the rub. Because David is a narcissist, it makes our relationship just plain wrong. He didn’t love me (because NP’s don’t feel attachment). He encouraged me to self-destruct and became openly furious when I failed. He didn’t respect me precisely because I wanted to obey him. And I’m supposed to feel some kind of shame for giving over my power like that. But I didn’t feel shame. I loved him and trusted him. I idealized him and worshipped him like a hero, not like a god. If he were a healthy man, our relationship could have been one of equals. Equals joined together for the glory of Hashem. And don’t kid yourself that women have to maintain a separateness from their mates. Couples may talk about it, but behind closed doors, marriage is all about compromise. As stubborn as I was, I was always willing to submit for David – so he stopped respecting me and trampled me like a rhinoceros. Hmm.
Okay. So I have unrealistic dreams of a healthy marriage with a man who is abusive. I want what I want what I want – which makes me immature. I still have to overcome my wretched upbringing, and I have vast storehouses of love that I long to share with others. No wonder I feel angry! But maybe that’s not the best solution. I’m not sure exactly where I was going with this post, but I just felt the need to express myself. Solutions will come in due time.
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