Tag Archives: narcissist

ROY ROGERS AND TRIGGER

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A beautiful Sunday morning. My mind is in a bit of a tizzy with a messy floating list of things to do. I did not take time for my meditation. I thought I would save time. I slept in a little later than my usual 6 am. I was rewatching Schindler’s List on Netflix last night. Each time I watch a movie about the Holocaust, I’m more horrified by the evil and cruelty we human beings are capable of. In Schindler’s List, both the evil and the good are shown. Oskar Schindler was a flawed man, but the war brought out the hero in him. I needed to see that it is possible.

I’m trying my best not to be triggered by the woman next door. It is damn hard. I’ve just looked up from my tapping and what do I see? Her man friend from across the street up her tree, the one who helps her with her nastiness. He wasn’t that way before he hooked up with her. He used to smile and wave at Sheba and me on our walks. So I take a deep breath, releasing my own bad energy. I need to focus on my own power, confidence and boundaries. I close my blinds.

Of course when you try to avoid something, it becomes all that much harder. I’ve been to the store and back, to my mother’s and back. I’m watering and weeding my raised beds in the front. I see that she has watered those little spruce trees she planted right next to my raised bed – 9 inches from her driveway. Who does that? I’m triggered again. I’m pissed. I gave them a few squirts of water myself. I hope that they will grow huge, over her precious driveway, scratching her car. I know that’s not the right way to feel or to think. But I am a flawed woman. I try to get the triggers out of my mind. Roy Rogers and his horse, Trigger came to mind. I will try to hold that in my mind’s eye when I encounter that woman. It is a much better picture. I can learn to be heroic like Oskar Schindler. Maybe just a little.

So ends day 4 for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Still a day behind. Heavy big sigh.

 

IT’S ALL ABOUT ME

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Sometimes All the time I feel self possessed. I’m consumed with me, I and myself. It’s all about me. I wonder if it is a bad thing. Is it a selfish thing? Am I a narcissist? By definition it is “a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves.” I think I’m disqualified because most of the time, I find myself lacking. I feel relieved. Yet I wonder why I’m not worthy of self admiration. Why do I feel ashamed or embarrassed to express the satisfaction with myself?

These are interesting times for me, entering the last stage of my life. You would think that after all this time, I would be more grown up, more confident, more knowing. But the only more I have lately are stuff, disappointment, anger and dissatisfaction with how I and life are. That’s not good at all, at all. I hate waking up in the morning with this sour taste in my mouth and my body heavy as lead. I plod through my days very efficiently nonetheless, almost with a smile on my face.

My saving grace is that I love a challenge. It is difficult for me to lie down for long and say uncle. I eventually rise, however slowly, like the Phoenix and is born again. I am tenacious, stubborn and obnoxious – but only to myself these days. I have learned a bit of wisdom through my addiction with self-help. DON’T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY. What others think of me is none of my business. I got that now. I do take myself personally though. I have regard for my well being. I am learning to take care of myself first. I have to save myself first before I can help someone else. It’s just like they teach you on the airplane. Put the oxygen mask on yourself first. I MATTER. Darn tooting.

I’m feeling pretty fine today, having turned my thoughts around a bit. I woke up with an unusual spring to my step. I try not to let things get under my skin. I’m trying to grow a thicker layer. I’m trying not to be so serious all the time. But the thing is I like my serious side. I like to ponder on serious stuff. I stopped at the used book store on the way home from my aerobics class. It is my candy store. I bought Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can by Caroline Myss. I am a serious case and a self-help addict. But I am earnestly working on having fun. Really I am – even if it’s just on paper.