Judgement Day

Dependency mode I wrote about stands on a stable conviction that whatever I do or say must be assessed by someone else. Only some other people can give us the right to undertake specific actions and, worse, to live in general. We seldom ask who gave them this right and rarely ask why we gave it away. But these are the fundamental issues of ours. 

It is a matter of mindset - we are led by thoughts that impact our bodies, emotions, and decision processes, yet we are unaware of them. Significant people and authorities had imprinted these thoughts a long time ago at that time, and there is no surprise that their interest was to make us obedient puppets. In plain words, we were taught what to think, not how to think. 

Dependency mode causes we are afraid of being judged and condemned. The more we are scared, the bigger the risk of becoming a developed narc or a suicide (the latter, more likely), for we do not belong to ourselves. Never! And for many of us, there comes the day when this one wrong assessment is too much to handle. 

I lie so I am right

Narcs lie for one reason - to create the reality in which all their deeds are justified.

They don't know one thing, though. They cannot comprehend their faults and sins because of pain that devours them from inside, as if admitting they did something wrong might cause even more hurt. Of course, that's not the truth. 

I am far from defending people with NPD, for most of them are who they became as adults due to their own choices (or lack of options). But I perfectly understand that the pain they live with is unbearable, and no one who did not experience it has the right to assess that he or she would behave differently if he or she were in a narc's shoes. No, you have no idea what you would do, feeling what they feel. 

Unfortunately, the problem is these individuals have yet to learn what they feel. They are as far as possible from their own interiors. And by denying wrong deeds, they are even further. It is hard to convince most people that confessing sins may help because, according to current social discourse, flaws, and weaknesses indicate we are less, and no one wants to be less, especially narcs. 

It took me lots of time to solve this problem: why does denying hurt us? But it's simple. To deny the truth, we usually use cognitive dissonance. By doing so, we became personal adversaries of our bodies; and started getting crazy. 

Cognitive dissonance is a bitch. Lying, treacherous, deadly bitch. Only, in the case of people with NPD, it is a total game-changer, to be exact - brain-changer. Narcs believe that what they feel at the moment and what they think is the one righteous judgment in the Universe. I was raised by the narcissistic witch; thus, I know exactly how it looks in practice. 

"I go to church, and I am a catholic, but, in this case, I think I didn't do anything wrong because I feel so. Yeah, having an affair with a married man, having a baby with him, and not telling him about the pregnancy sounds not right, but not in my situation, for my situation is different and extraordinary, and you must accustom my beliefs, not the doctrine of the Church".

You look at this person when she says something like this and think nothing can help her. She is lost since she has no hint that things can be otherwise. And even if she's your own mother, in most cases, it is better to run from her to heal wounds she caused within years.

Narc's Turning Point

Why do the narcs need followers? They don't exist without fans around them; they crave the limelight as other humans need oxygen.

The mechanism is simple - people who don't have a conscience still need someone who'd back their actions. People who hate themselves seek 'love' somewhere else. The last thing you can tell about narcs is that they are independent. And don't be fooled by how they ghost or discard others - finding new followers (better looking, wealthier ones) is easy as a walk in the park for these individuals.

Narcissists find themselves as the most unattractive beings in this world. But, contrary to the suicides, they never will admit that fact. They look at themselves through the eyes of other people, and since they have this fantastic ability to find enthusiasts of their fake image in every circumstance, they don't see any flaws. Very convenient, isn't it? Except it is not.

As I witnessed, the narcissist can instantly turn suicidal. Let all these followers disappear; let them vanish along with fame, fortune, and, in some cases, a person who was a narc's victim, e.g., the child. Such a situation may be the beginning of the end or... a chance. Will he or she use it as a turning point? That depends only on individual choice.

The mystery of the suicidal brain

You may have a narcissistic wound, yet you don't have to become a narc. But if you don't seek help, this wound will turn your life into a nightmare, and, eventually, it may lead you to suicidal death. This is what happened to me. Thank God I didn't kill myself, and for the first time in my life, I don't want to die (since I was six, to be exact), but I live with the trauma that paints my reality in very dark shades. 

Yes, I believe that narcs and suicides are two sides of the same coin. However, people with a narcissistic personality disorder willingly choose to hurt others to make their lives more bearable; they do not develop a conscience. They use their natural talents for immoral purposes. These talents are: creating a fake image and the ability to summon their own followers. 

Becoming popular or even a famous person is the primary goal of every narc. That's why creating the image consumes the whole of their energy. Hurting or destroying other individuals doesn't bother them. They suppress every single remorse, and they do that until the conscience is silenced for good. 

People with suicidal thoughts want to be liked. It seems to be similar to a narc's desire to become famous but make no mistake - they desperately want to please everyone but themselves, for they think this is the only way to stop hating themselves. They, too, live in dependency mode, but they are not interested in fame and popularity. Those people, just like I did, think that they don't deserve to be treated well, and very often, they are children of narcissistic parents. 

I will never understand why persons with this kind of wound choose such different paths. I don't know precisely why I became a suicide with mental health problems, not a narcissistic personality. Sometimes, this direction was very tempting and seemed easier to endure. Maybe it's because I have chosen God and His plan for my life, or perhaps some other factors have prevailed. I really want to discover the truth. 

Project manager for life

If you are not loved by anyone, you feel like you are drowning. All the time. 

The pain comes back one time by another, and you cannot escape it because the only cure is being loved by someone significant. 

This is how we were created - we must experience love; otherwise, our life is unbearable. 

I've learned to provide good things for myself, which is very helpful. Some moments of my existence are too hard, though, and I need to acquire the ability to cope with them. The nervous system is 'overloaded,' I am tired and a bit confused.

In fact, at some point, the life of a person who did not experience love and who did experience a lot of abuse turns into a big project of coping with the results of a painful past. And most people around us have no idea about our fight; they don't see survivors in us. We're lucky if they don't consider us as losers.

My Pathetic Suicide

Let's talk about suicide. My suicide. 

The only attempt in my life I desperately wanted to forget about. 

But forgetting doesn't change anything because the problem comes back, though it is masked and hidden behind some substitute. The reason it always haunts me is simple: I have never faced a direct cause. 

Silence days.

This is how my non-mother punished me; God alone knows what for. Suddenly, her mood changed, and she stopped talking to me. I could only count on the look of hatred and single growling from time to time. 

She knew it hurt me. That was the point. And I am sure she knew that this very pain was so unbearable it could kill me. By doing so, she could feel full power over me; she had control. 

That day, it was too much for me. I was sixteen, spending winter or summer break at home with her. And she didn't speak to me whatsoever. This situation was prolonged, and I didn't know what to do. The pain inside my chest and head was so tremendous I was sure I was going mad. I couldn't stand it. So I took a pill. One pill of a painkiller containing tranquilizer. But the pain was only increasing. So I took another pill. And another. And another. Until the pack was empty. I drifted away for a very long time. I was sure I would die, but it didn't bother me. I simply wanted to stop feeling the pain. I was lying on my bed in my room for almost two days, and she didn't check on me once. She didn't speak to me, after all. 

When I gathered, I was alive, but something inside of me died for good. And stayed dead up to this moment. I pushed myself away from the shock; I suppressed the memory. I felt like an ultimate loser who could not do anything properly - even kill myself (it was after I found out that this amount of drug wasn't enough to take the life). In my own eyes, I was a pathetic being.

Today, suppressing this memory, though unsuccessful, let me live. I was also unaware of another factor helping me survive. I discovered it now. But about that, another time. 

Come back to Earth, watch 'Ad Astra'

[This post contains spoilers]

The Ad Astra movie is not as killer as' Joker'' is. It is also a good piece of work, though. I found many negative opinions about it on the Polish internet; the viewers seemed disappointed, as if they expected something else. Well, I didn't expect anything. I wanted to spend last Sunday evening at the cinema, and the film about space travel is always the right choice for me. I received more than anticipated.

The subject of this movie could be easily depicted in the theatre, in the mere scene, without all these special effects and divine music (OMG! I love Max Richter, and this was the most delightful surprise hearing his compositions). But special effects also played a significant part, not only as stage directions.

In a few words, the movie 'Ad Astra' describes complicated relationships between father and son. It says about bad parenting and how it impacts the next generation's life. And the lives of many other people. It shows that the father is responsible for his son's future, emotional state, essential choices. But luckily, it also points out that the grown-up son becomes accountable for his own development if the father lets him down. While this journey - at some point even absurd, if we consider crazy flying monkeys - was an allegory of desperate attempts to save the absent parent. It was about saving, bringing him back where he should have been all the time, and convincing him that his 'mission' is, in fact, a delusion. The son would do anything to change his past, even fly to the fringe of the heliosphere.

It is not said directly, but the son realized and accepted that his father wasn't a hero. He stopped protecting his father's perfect picture and started seeing his life from the proper perspective. He could come back to Earth - in a metaphoric and literal sense.

As for the absurdity of some scenes, there is a possibility that this whole story was in Roy's head only. This was how he coped with a bleeding wound of an abandoned child. This was his healing journey, becoming a mature and free person.

Joker's Universum

[This is not a movie review. It's my personal opinion and feelings after watching 'Joker' in the cinema. The post contains spoilers.]

Loud silence

Five hundred people filled the cinema on Sunday evening. Five hundred young craved for good entertainment people ready for consumption of tons of pop-corn and gallons of cola. I was terrified. First, crowds make me feel uncomfortable. Second, I hate the sound of crunching and chewing, along with this specific smell. But for almost two hours, there was only silence. And palpable shock.

I'm not very fond of cinemas, both big and small ones. I like watching horrors there, though, or catastrophic movies for better effects. But I knew that 'Joker' is the film that I must-see on the big screen only. I somehow knew this movie will be about me too.

I read the opinion that it is hard to watch, that it is a 'heavy' picture with a very stifling atmosphere, and, due to that fact, even some spectators were leaving the cinemas before the end credits. Yes, and that's the point.

I was watching this movie with nothing but satisfaction. Other feelings were not significant at the moment. Finally, someone else could feel something that is my personal experience on a daily basis. I wasn't shocked by what I see. I wasn't in shock at all. Not after all these years with my non-mother and all this crap she keeps in her head. I know, for I saw it, the viewers were confused, they felt anxiety, and at some point embarrassment. The only thing I wanted to shout to them was:

"Welcome to my world, people!"

See what I see, feel what I feel

In my opinion, as a person who, for decades, suffers from mental health problems, 'Joker' is so far the best movie depicting mental health issues. It directly tells about the causes (surprise, surprise! - Arthur's mother was a diagnosed narc, and he was abused by her lover). It also shows the dramatic results (not everyone becomes a mass murderer, but Joker's figure vividly reminds me of at least one dictator's biography). From my point of view, however, the most important thing was how Joaquin Phoenix played that part.

Portraying character with emotional disorders is not easy because most of the people, actors too, have a very shallow understanding of what does it mean someone is struggling with mental health.

In the movie, there is a scene where Arthur is with his therapist, informing him about fund cuts, and that this is their last meeting. He then said something that is an epitome of being a mentally ill person in society:

"You don't listen."

When he was saying these words, he wasn't sick whatsoever. He was totally sane.

We are sick because nobody listens to us; nobody who can do something - parents, family, teachers, priests, shrinks. We must fit in some template; we must answer tendentious questions; we must obey. My therapists didn't want to listen to what I want to tell them - they only wanted me to be a 'good patient' to play another role in my life. While things I say always end in some void.

Arthur's voice wasn't heard, he stayed invisible. But his actions gained the attention. Why? Because he did something that many people wanted to do too. Of course, this deed was not in their name, for he didn't have any agenda. He simply was desperate. Like they were.

I won't lecture about society's unfairness and class division because it's not a real problem here. People's desperation starts long before they become grown-ups. And it also applies to rich people, expressing their despair differently. The thing is some persons endure tough times on emotional level (war, economic crisis, etc.), and some not. The internal stamina develops at home, at very early stages of life, usually, when we are too small to speak. But society stays behind our drama, e.g., when it destroys the institution of a healthy family; when there are no fathers present in our lives. It backs and covers unhealthy practices and makes them new normal. Society (family, school, church, social services, neighbors) ruined my life by letting my non-mother do whatever she wanted to do; by protecting her and not protecting my father's rights; by promoting the figure of a 'brave' lonely mother; by denying she's evil person... These made of me a vulnerable person, poorly enduring hard times.

We grow up, and we already are tired. We are fed up with being maltreated. We feel we do not belong to any kind of group, and if we do, we are not able to adjust. We feel like we are depersonalized. The frustration is more significant within years till the moment something breaks for good. If a man has no good bone, some compass-like faith in God, the tragedy is inevitable. 

Antihero but hero

Arthur craved for the attention. He wanted to be a stand-up comedian, which is quite understandable for me as people from dysfunctional families very often play the role of a court jester. They try to control the changing moods of an emotionally unstable parent by the lough. Later on, they attempt to control the bigger audience, much scarier one. I've been there, and I am a great comedian if the situation requires that. I can make others laugh, though inside, I am hauling like a wounded animal. 

Do you think his laugh was a real laugh? No. It was a cry. There was nothing funny about it. And the viewers, sitting around me in the cinema, had been expressing obvious distress while watching it.

He finally attracted attention. He became a hero, a model role even. And it didn't bother him it was because of becoming a cruel murderer. He gained self-confidence no one ever gave him. His voice was heard.

White mirror

I've read that there was massive butt-hurt among liberals concerning 'Joker.' Honestly, I have no clue why. I am not a liberal or leftist, despite my tough past and lack of family, and I don't know what so outrageous they could find about this movie. In fact, after leaving the cinema, I thought to myself: it's just a movie, and there are no political connotations in it; it's good to see such a non-engaged picture.

Well, it seems leftists can see wrong things everywhere nowadays. Especially when it touches their 'subconscious biases.' Maybe they have the impression someone put the mirror in front of their eyes.

Foe of mine

Being a child of a parent who is narcissistic sadist is something awful. But the much worse situation is when one is a member of a narcissistic family. It's not so rare, and the people who are aware that there is something wrong with their clan are in very complicated circumstances. They have two options - stay with the family or run away. The first alternative means they probably won't have the chance to heal their wounds, to be themselves, to live a healthy life, full of love and happiness. If they choose to escape the gulag euphemistically called family, they should be prepared for the war. And since they are fragile human beings, usually weakened by the ordeal they came through, the fight for their own well being seems way too hard for their nervous system. 

Well, this is my reality. 

On the one side of the barricade, they - predators, united against me, angry people, prepared for doing really nasty things to me. Things they call love, common sense, and observing God's commandments. They have assembled everyone they could: in-laws, friends, even secret lovers. Every single attempt to convince me I am a terrible person is justified in their eyes. These persons are backed by Church, neighbors, my 'friends' and teachers from my school. 

On the other side, me. Just me. Some people told me, "you're not alone; we are with you." But once I was openly attacked by some family members, I found allies in people I didn't expect.

It took me too much time to understand why my non-mother's sibling and their spouses (and spouses' sibling) are so fierce and united in their campaign. She and they don't even like each other, they were permanent enemies, plotting and accusing one by another of real or imagined things. But this is how NPD families work - they join the forces against a common foe. In this case, the adversary is me. And this was also a mystery for me. They act as if my decision was a threat. For it is.

NPD families are built on lies. Many lies. The person telling them the truth is dangerous and should be silenced by all means. The lies are like glue for the fiction created many years ago by our ancestors - it makes the impression everything is in the right place. They don't believe in these myths though. In their guts, they know that everything is wrong. Just like me. They simply don't know that living in truth is possible. 

Is it you or is it me?

The biggest paradox of people who were not loved by their mothers (and they are not aware of this fact) is that they never become fully independent human beings. It's not only about being immature. It's about being a part of somebody else's body and mind. And this is the main reason these people deny anything bad happened to them from the hand of the mother. Admitting that the beloved mom, this fantastic person, contemporary saint, is, in fact, the merciless abuser is something beyond their ability. 

The mechanism is simple - unborn and newborn baby is so dependent on the mother's love that he or she is a part of her body and mind. And once the love is not provided, the person stuck in this very early stage of development and cannot move on. There is, of course, a way of solving this problem by replacing the figure of the mother by someone else, by some kind of authority who supplies the child with whatever it needs. But let's be honest, no one sees such a necessity when the mother seems to be so fabulous. Besides, she would never give up on the best mean of showing off as the best parent in the world. 

For the child, saying that mommy was bad is equal to disintegrating whole the world, for if she is a terrible person, he is too. If she didn't love him, he had never existed. 

Searching for Gold in a Pile of Dung

So how does the fact that you had the non-parent similar to my non-mother impact your life? 

Just imagine this: you were a victim - abused, sometimes 'used', neglected, maybe beaten - but you grew up without knowing the truth; you are convinced that the person who loved you the most couldn't be your abuser; you don't connect your problems with mental health or addictions to the possibility that you were not loved whatsoever and that you live in tremendous lie, backed by the family, society, church and yourself. And now, you are a grown-up person, making stupid decisions no one with a span of sanity understands. 

One of the most ludicrous choices is marrying the person who... doesn't love you. Yet, it is not so ludicrous if you'd know the truth, for this is what you've learned: to see love where there is no love, to search gold in a big reeking pile of shit. You dig and dig, you are dirtier and dirtier, but you don't give up and you find these efforts as a proof for your stamina and strong character. 

It's sad. It's pathetic. My heart, however, is full of compassion for these souls, because their feelings, unlike 'feelings' of the narc scumbags, preying on them, are genuine, and the pain is a hundred percent real. I'd like to tell them not to look gold where there only can be dung found. 

Ugly Truth

It is hard to accept that the person you love the most hurts you. We try to 'protect' ourselves from this fact so we are finding millions of reasons why he or she is doing so. These reasons are supposed to protect the beloved one, to explain why he or she treats us like that, to justify his or her deeds. And the last thing we want to think about is that this very person makes us harm because he or she finds the ultimate pleasure in it. 

That's right - pleasure. 

Not so long ago, I've learned that these people, who like causing pain and, at the same time, feel attached to the victims, are called sadists while psychopaths are those who like hurting others but don't have any particular emotions towards them hence their victims are so often killed. That's why I say that my non-mother is a sadist, not a psychopath. She thinks she loves me because she experiences huge distress while I'm far away from her. And since she believes in it so hard, almost everybody believes her.

Oh, I too believe she suffers, for the only moments of true pleasure for her was when she had the opportunity to hurt me. My pain meant she was in control over something, probably the only thing in her miserable life. But after those years without her around me, when I was washing off my soul of her venom, I realized that this wasn't just about control. 

I don't find pleasure in tormenting people, especially children. In fact, the thought I could have hurt anyone is terrifying. I literally cannot sleep, dwelling on words I said that could have done harm. And the longer I am good for myself the more stunned I am how she could be so cruel for so long, and that this cruelty was escalating and evolving withing years, adjusting to my age and needs (e.g., she stopped beating me when I was a teenager but she started leaving me alone at home for days and was constantly mad at me for no reason). Like I said, now I know it was nothing but pure pleasure for her.

I call it 'ugly truth' because for the people like my non-mother the truth is something utterly bad. They want to have control over a weak and dependent human being, and there is no better one than own child. They don't see anything wrong about what they do and how their emotional world is functioning. They feel entitled to such behavior. The truth that they are the evil person is unacceptable.

Contemporary Witches

Why is it so hard to accept that there are mothers who don't love their children? Why this fact is so inconvenient for most people? As if telling it loudly was something awful. 

Well, the awful truth is there are bad or even evil mothers but the worse thing is being silent about it. Silence makes the following generations have no chance to live a better life, for the lack of true mother's love impacts the quality of life in the whole society. Just as one priest told me: the world is so screwed because there are stupid mothers in it. Period.

It is not about some kind of witch hunt, even if I call these specific women witches. It is about improving the situation and the situation is that millions of women are nowadays ready to kill their children before (or even after) the birth in the name of 'free' choice. 

But on my radar, there are women pretending love. The contemporary 'saints', with the mission to be devoted to their beloved children and, not so often, to the whole world, full of poor souls. These women, however, are not able to love anyone, either themselves. They are narcissistic witches, casting the spells on everyone around them, and few see their true faces. You cannot say that they are narcs, without being condemned by almost everyone. Believe me, you cannot!

And this is an odd thing - how people can be so blind? And the most peculiar thing is how is it that we, the children of these witches, stay in such darkness for so long, even all life, when only the truth may help us solve our various problems. This is the ultimate witchcraft!

I see them everywhere. The creations of bad mothers. If they don't become narcs themselves, they most likely have mental health issues, they are not able to sustain stable relationships, they break the law, overuse drugs and alcohol, commit suicide... And sometimes, they are so stupid that nobody can believe this is possible. People look at them, nod the heads and say: 

"How can he/she be such an imbecile?! His/her mother was a fantastic person."

Why don't you love me?

One of the biggest milestones on my way to recovery (which still is an ongoing process) was the discovery that my non-mother simply hates me to the bone. It took me so many years to accept this obvious fact because of at least four reasons. First, Stockholm syndrome. Second, her constant lies, so common among narcs. Third, social discourse. Fourth, so-called religious upbringing. 

But, since I came to this realization, I started asking myself a plain question: WHY? And again, I fell in self-blaming and looking for the explanations within myself until I remembered how I hated someone else to the bone without any particular reason. No one was more surprised by this feeling than I was. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Now it's clear that people with 'narcissistic wound' (not necessarily narcs) may have this compulsive need to direct the hatred toward one or more people. In their minds, there is, of course, a good justification for that which, in fact, doesn't have a lot in common with common sense. But... we must hate someone just like we were hated, usually by our own mother. 

However, there is one big problem here. In most cases, we don't know that our beloved mom hated us. We do not accept the reality, for it might have destroyed us. Whereas, it is quite the opposite. 

It's easier when people are aware that the mother never loved them. You may think that bearing this knowledge is something terrible but unawareness is much worse. This is like living with a big secret that is tormenting our subconscious and nervous system. The body knows that it was hurt and that there was no love, yet the intellect tries to dupe it. 

For my non-mother, I was the perfect scapegoat to transfer her hatred, anger, and accusations. She could blame me for everything she desired because it was allowed by her non-family, church, society, educational system, etc. She could feel the relief whenever she wanted, thus her changing moods, bursts of anger coming out of nowhere, inconsistency in the value system. Nobody knew she hated me. Nobody knew she never loved me. Nobody knew she was a real threat to my health and life on a daily basis. She was 'safe'.

cPTSD (it's all about the money)

Just as I didn't know that my non-mother and other people around me (responsible for me at a certain time) are NPDs, I wasn't either aware that I myself struggle with Complex PTSD (cPTSD) which for instance is not being diagnosed let alone treated in Poland's psychiatric facilities. As I mentioned, no therapist wanted to listen about how the woman who gave birth to me was abusing me since the beginning of my life. My stories are not only beyond their poor medical experience but also beyond social discourse they acquired and obey, saying that deep inside, every parent is a good person and had, in fact, good intentions. 

Luckily, nowadays, there are such good inventions available as Pinterest where I found many interesting sources that helped me understand my problems and find some relief. There are many good people, excellent specialists on the web who don't bother annoying medical terminology and are full of compassion toward victims of 'bad parenting'. Their articles and blogs are the best things that happened to me during previous years. I will not exaggerate if I say that they are lifesavers. 

Lately, I came across this very interesting article regarding cPTSD problem. There are these couple of lines that drew my attention, for they quite well describe what I had to go through as a baby, toddler, and a teenager:

For those who are older, being at the complete control of another person (often unable to meet their most basic needs without them), coupled with no foreseeable end in sight, can break down the psyche, the survivor's sense of self, and affect them on this deeper level. For those who go through this as children, because the brain is still developing and they're just beginning to learn who they are as an individual, understand the world around them, and build their first relationships - severe trauma interrupts the entire course of their psychologic and neurologic development.

In other words, my sadistic non-mother damaged my brain and I need to live with this ordeal every second of my life. 

The worst thing about it was that I was 'unable to meet the most basic needs' without her. I was completely dependent on her. I was the captive. And this is how my brain is working all the time - in full dependency mode. 

I won't provide the details right now. Just imagine you are me and you are fired. Losing my job was the moment when I realized this dependency the most, for it refreshed the memories and magnified the feeling of being a 'redundant cost' (this is how my lousy ex-boss called me while firing me and I will never forget him these words, that's for sure). But, as I told him, this is what the Providence wanted for me. I had to come back to this nonsense and to this wound in my nervous system. It was hidden though actively draining me from strength.  

This is a huge abuse: implying that the worth of own child is measured by money. And this is pure evil in using the position of bread-winner in order to manipulate others who are under our custody. 

Inadequacy and Unworthiness

I wrote:

"(...)in most cases of 'mental health issues', the problem is that we are stuck in our NPD non-parents' or caregivers' minds."

As we can read in the blog of Dr. Linda Martinez-Lewi (the Person whose work, along with late Alice Miller's books, saved my life):

"Many victims of narcissistic parents are haunted by feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness as a result of innumerable verbal assaults on them as children and adults." LINK

Inadequacy and unworthiness! 

No person is born to have the feeling that he or she is unworthy or doesn't fit any place. This is not part of our 'source code'. Other people, we are dependent to, make us feel and think this way. And the parents who are NPDs know exactly how to set up our mindset since the cradle. 

Someone told me once that every mental illness is only a matter of the way we are thinking. I'd add that the matter of how we think about ourselves. People who acquired the ability to love themselves have small chances to get sick because they will be strong enough to survive even in the worst situations. For people like me, who were neglected in many aspects of life, even the small problems sometimes are an unbeatable mountain. 

Why? 

Imagine you are blaming yourself for absolutely everything. Life is harsh and there are more difficult situations than simple ones, but, no matter what is happening, you feel that this is your fault, that you could have foreseen it, know things beyond your knowledge... I feel like this, for my non-mother was constantly implying these lies. 

This was my fault a classmate was bullying me, 

this was my fault the bus came too late, 

this was my fault I was born, 

this was my fault she was depressed, etc. etc. 

These are exactly the circumstances as to when blaming rape victims for being raped - she must have done or said something that provoked the perpetrator, she had a short skirt, she was walking alone after dark... 

The wrong mindset that is imprinted in our brains and we cannot get rid of this just like that. For if you are guilty, if you KNOW that you are a bad person, then you feel unworthy of better treatment, you don't seek help, you think you deserved everything bad that happened to you, especially the way your vicious parent is treating you.

I didn't know

I was not aware that, all the time, I was writing about NPDs (Narcissistic Personality Disorder). My mother is NPD, whole her family is NPD, the men I loved are NPDs, most of my teachers were NPDs (this is a real misfortune that even at school, I was surrounded by them), my bosses and colleagues were NPDs. I published "Guide for (Ultimate) Losers," and I was completely unaware that I am referring to this kind of 'personality' in it. 

This very discovery helped much more than any kind of therapy or auto-therapy could do. Because, once I learned about it from academic sources, I stopped believing that I can fix any one of these people, for they are... fixed personalities. They don't want to change although, sometimes, they pretend they want being healed in order to keep their victims close and to continue their torment. Well, I did suspect I cannot change such a person - that's why I stopped contacting my non-mother and her non-family - but there is always this tiny hope of a little child, betrayed by the parents, that if he/she would do or say something in a different way, the family member will understand everything and the things will be better from now on. No, nothing will be better! Never!

I am quite sure that in most cases of 'mental health issues', the problem is that we are stuck in our NPD non-parents' or caregivers' minds. We function in their system of 'values', we constantly operate the terminology they had invented for the purposes of their crooked brains. We are NEVER free. People with anxiety problems, depression, CHAD or schizophrenia are inmates in these prisons of evil people who "were destined to be lost".

The Maze of Oblivion

The memory is a key to mental health. Only those people and the nations who remember their past - and do not deny it no matter how bad it was - have the chance to be completely sane. That's why the movie "Maze Runner" is the best allegory of what exactly mental disease is.

If you didn't see it, spoiler alert. 

Becoming a member of the group living inside of the Maze is something scary. Everything is scary, just like while being mentally ill. You don't know what is going on yet you need to survive, adjust, obey the rules. 

Right, the rules... Just as I mentioned in the last post, there are many people who will tell you what you should do or think if you are sick. The world of shrinks and therapists is represented by the character named Gally - do not ask, do not try to get out, stay safe where you are, searching for answers may be dangerous, and, of course, follow the rules that make we feel relatively comfortable. 

The one thing making that the group members didn't take the risk the main character took right away after showing up in the Maze, is oblivion, and to be more precise, unawareness of whole the situation they are in. Naturally, the nasty creatures emerging after dark are also dreadful but when I was watching the movie I realized that the boys were subconsciously afraid of unknown hidden further, behind the threat they learned to live with. And they didn't have a reliance on any memories. They lacked the base they could stay on. Just as people with mental illnesses.

People who have no idea how it is to live with mental illness, do not understand that the problem with memories do not always concern the events themselves but emotions related to these events. We do not remember the fear associated with violence we experienced, with beating, parents' screams and anger of theirs. We are detached from the pain we felt, from loneliness without limits... Honestly, for most of our lives, we are detached from ourselves. And this is something most of the other people want from us - to stay in terror, to obey the rules, to take the meds, do not ask the inconvenient questions... do not run.

Non-Mental

There is this huge common misconception among 'healthy' people that mental illnesses are incurable. As a result, they seem to demand from ill persons to behave and think in a certain way. Shrinks express such opinions loudly and without any shade of shame. Others just signalize these expectations in a more concealed way. 

Many doctors and therapists, once the diagnosis is announced, list the things the patient should do or think and, above all, they say that this is "for the rest of your life". This approach let them control, not cure, patients. It takes away the responsibility from their shoulders, they can wear their 'normal' clothes and go back home after the shift without guilt. 

I experienced this situation only once. And I told myself I will do whatever I can to prove them wrong. It is possible that, when the time is good, I will sue the doctor and whole the ward I was 'treated' in. 

I solved my problems. I found the cure. I discovered the truth about myself, about my non-mother, non-family, non-teachers, non-doctors... It took me over six years though it shouldn't have been such a struggle if I  only have had a good treatment. 

But it is not the time for regrets. Now, it is time to live. 

Invisible Fortress

Nobody knew how I was spending Sunday morning. But it was awesome. The fact that I wasn't noticed didn't spoil my mood. For some time, I have been aware that this is how I want my life looks like - I am invisible, unimportant, forgotten... despite the voice of anxiety says something opposite. I am happy when no one is judging me or even look at me. But the problem is that the only effective cure for my emotional issues is doing things that may expose me to the overall sight. And this is awful.

*** 

Not so long time ago, I discovered that people who have suicidal thoughts - like me - are those who depend on others' opinion too much and it concerns really serious and essential things. That's why it is so hard to live the life of an invisible person. It is hard to ensure the acceptance for own deeds and decisions internally. I still look around as if someone 'important' would say that I and my actions are important or unimportant, that I deserve for some kind of approval or not... 

This very knowledge started changing my mindset. But, paradoxically, only criticism and rejection created proper situations in which I could 'train' my will and change my way of thinking. I could begin building my fortress I should have built as a child. 

*** 

The fortress means a single person doesn't lose the connection with own self. The walls protecting the core of the existence are high and strong. I don't depend on anybody's opinion. Nobody can tell me that I don't deserve to live or to be loved. And this is what I had believed in for a very long time. 

In the case of people like me, it is very easy to undermine our strength and self-confidence. Sometimes, banal things can trigger the decision of taking own life. That's why I try as much as I can to be nice and kind (or stay away if I am not able to be), for I don't know the mental state of the person I am talking to. We really never know...

Up-Side-Down

I'm sure you all know some movies or TV series where the main character struggles with the trauma he or she doesn't remember. It haunts that person though it is hidden deep in the subconscious. 

I don't remember what caused my own trauma. I really don't. But it impacts my life every second. 

So maybe I'll describe what it does with me, how it changes my mindset.

It is like finding myself in 'up-side-down world' depicted in 'Stranger Things' series. I freeze with terror. I cannot move. Everything I see and experience changes. I feel the fear of being outcasted from the world, the reality we all know. Everyone seems to be against me and I am stupid and unimportant. There is no one who could or want to protect me, backing me and my case.

The situation with losing my job intensified the trauma or just unveiled what I was trying to hide in order to avoid the pain. Except I still don't see what it is...

*** 

I freeze... Like an animal. Scared to death. 

I remember countless times I was frozen because of fear. And I had a good reason for that. 

I am not ACoA though my experiences are very similar to theirs. Besides, my mother, for a short period of time, had been drinking a lot, not coming back home for hours and, after showing up, being aggressive. I was scratching walls in my room out of unbearable stress.

The main problem I had to face all that time (now too) was loneliness. I had no one. NO ONE! Many people were aware of my situation though. People are still blind to somebody else's pain.

*** 

The story of my life is searching for a spirit mate, for someone who could be with me no matter what, no matter if I use big fonts or my language skills are poor. 

I don't remember the circumstances I felt like this for the first time - the rejection, the feeling that I am being banished from this planet. This is my trauma. 

I remember though when I for the first time felt abandoned by God. Priest's words, in ears of a little, very sensitive girl, sound like God's statement. This wound is still bleeding. 

Take Care

Well, maybe my 'suicidal brain' works a little bit better now but I still need to struggle with other problems. The worst of them is anxiety.

The fact that I was fired last Tuesday doesn't improve my state. It reminds me of all these awful situations when I felt like the worst sort of trash. And I don't know if the moment when you hear you are fired is so bad or it is worsened by the suppressed memories. 

I realized that I constantly try to find a place with the people who won't disappoint me as if this could heal my wounds. When I read this review of my book where someone called it 'huge disappointment', it occurred to me that the only person who shouldn't do that is me. And the only Person I should never in my life deliberately disappoint is God. 

But when someone fires you - especially when you struggle with mental illness - you are more than anxious. You ask yourself the questions whether you could do something to prevent it; whether you could predict it; didn't you see it was coming? You blame yourself... 

However, at some point, you know that you're better now when you start thinking about yourself with a concern. The anxiety is no longer the main voice in your head, it is not leading you. You worry that these circumstances may harm you, cause a relapse, ruin the stability you built with such an effort. At first, you are mad at the person who did it to you (in this situation, the boss) but then you need to get a grip and take care of yourself - this time, better than before.

Dear Amazon Customer, I was waiting for you

I rarely (almost never) relate to opinions about my books. But this time is special because I was waiting for this particular 'review' for a very long time. So thank you dear Amazon Customer for your time and sacrifice. 

You may read it on Amazon or here:

The book is printed in a very large font, it is double spaced (at first, I looked to see if I had mistakenly ordered the large print for visually impaired; I didn't) and the author uses no articles in her writing whatsoever. It is very choppy reading and she keeps referring to her other "posts"; I wonder if she just took part of a blog she writes and had it printed as a book. I wasted the $8+ for this one. I read LOTS of books and never bother writing a review since I can usually just trudge on through most anything, but this one is impossible. Very incohesive and no pertinent information concerning suicide. Huge disappointment!!

Let's start from the end: 'a huge disappointment'.

Well... I am not surprised. I am a disappointment for everyone around me since I was born and I mentioned that fact not once. This is one of the main reasons I wanted to die since I was six. And that's why I wrote and published the book - to tell about it. 

It is hard to know what other people expect by reading a book about someone else's suicidal thoughts and mental problems. Honestly, I don't care what people expect. Sorry, that's the fact. This very book - a collection of essays I had been writing for almost a year (yes, they were primarily part of a blog) - helped me cope with the issues that weren't solved in a psychiatric ward by the best (allegedly) shrinks in this country and by the best (allegedly) meds in this world. 

So, this time, I may have disappointed someone else but, for the first time in my life, not myself.

Second thing: 'big letters'.

Seriously?! Is this a problem? No comment.

Third: 'Waste of money'.

That happened. I feel the same buying many things even books. 

Last but not least: 'Language'.

Oh, yes. Let's get back to this topic when you learn Polish and try to publish some books in this language. 

Besides, I use now Grammarly (which btw underlined one mistake in your review) and my life is much better now ;)

-------------------------------------------------

Anyway, I only today realized that 'the suicidal brain' is something I forgot about. Really! It happened. As I said, my intention while writing and publishing the book wasn't helping anyone else but me. I don't know how it works but every time I wrote a post in English, something in my brain repaired itself. And once I published the book on Amazon... Well, that was a magic experience.

Stockholm Syndrome

Working in the places I shouldn't work in and being with people I shouldn't spend time with results in constant tiredness. I am exhausted, drained, barely alive... My brain is fried. My body aches. 

Just one person can bring me to this state. One! I wake up and I think that I must meet her or him, and my whole day will be ruined. 

Now, imagine you are a little child and you must live under one roof with the person who is a sadist, who doesn't love you, who turns your life into a disaster... Sometimes, there is psychical and physical abuse involved, and sometimes, sexual assaults even. Yet, you cannot escape, you must stay, be alone with your ordeal. In such situations, not so rarely, children protect their tormentors, hide the wounds, remain silent or loudly praise parents' and carers' virtues. You may say, it is Stockholm syndrome and you probably are right. But from my childhood, I remember these flashes of very clear thinking when I was aware of what is going on in my life. 

In those moments, I was really me. 

There was however a price for awareness - loneliness, rejection, fear of becoming an outcast. So I wasn't really me. I was choosing loyalty towards my sadistic mother. I was trying to understand her, to find nonexistent virtues in her, to love her as much as I could... And by 'love' I recognize 'having feelings'. I didn't know that loving doesn't mean having feelings, not always. I was forcing myself to like the person who was awful, aggressive, mean to me, and emotionally unstable. 

Nowadays, I need to struggle with similar situations, in which I meet bad people or people who are aggressive and mean to me. The knowledge that I cannot escape kills me again... But when I recall my childhood I try to remember particularly about the moments of awareness because I then was truly free though maybe a little bit lonely. I need to be aware right now too. 

Get Out of The Fog

The worst things I was afraid of happened to me. My biggest fears turned out to be the truth.

As a child, I was scared that my mother hates me, though she had been saying something else. And she proved my fears were real.

I was always afraid that I will grow up and my father won't show up, that he wouldn't want me. And it happened.

As a teenager, I was afraid of being mentally ill. I was begging God to take this misfortune from me. He didn't listen to my prayers.

I can list many more of my biggest fears that came true. In few words, my life is woven of anxiety and waiting for something bad that happens... 

But I have never ask myself one question: so what?

My parents are who they are and let them be (as long as they are far away from me). I defeated my illness. Luckily, I didn't kill myself and, only by some miracle, I didn't lose my Faith. 

And the most important thing - I am able to love particularly those who don't love me. 

So what?!

It never occurred to me that this situation doesn't bother me in fulfilling other tasks. It doesn't if I don't let it do so. 

My Story

It is good until it is not...

All the effort, all achievements are for vain. Yesterday, I was holding up looking into the future with hope, and today, everything vanished and I again want to die. Just die, disappear... I fell apart into small pieces. My heart feels unbearable pain.

Seemingly, I know the reason, but in fact, I am far from my own truth. It is still hidden. If it wasn't, I wouldn't have been thinking about death, I wouldn't have wanted to kill myself, never in my life! 

My story, just as the story of my grandmother's and a couple of other people I've known, concerns unfulfilled love - being unloved by people we love the most. But when I was six, I wasn't able to name it like that; I wouldn't say that my parents broke my heart, especially my mother did, simply because I didn't know she doesn't love me. My father was absent, so, in the child's mind, the fault was on my side, not his. There was something wrong with me... 

That's why now, I relentlessly seek for people who don't love me and who for sure wouldn't have the will to want to be with me in order to experience this ordeal time after time. 

Luther's Father

As I mentioned in the previous post, behind our decisions and undertakes, there are often different reasons hidden. Different ones than we may assume. And from my experience, they usually are rooted deeply in the past, in the relations with parents. As long as we are not aware of the origin of our various 'feelings' and 'thoughts', we subconsciously try to achieve certain goals with wrong people and even institutions. And, by accident, we may change the history of civilization. 

***

Surprisingly, even Wikipedia provides some information about Martin Luther's relations with his father. Usually, biographies, especially of people who had lived a long time ago, ignore this aspect as if it was irrelevant. In the case of Luther, it was an absolutely crucial thing - the fear of father. The fear mixed with admiration so easily transferred to God. This very topic is so important to me, for it concerns also my problems with Faith and relations with Almighty and... with the Catholic Church.

First - transferring feelings toward people to God is a mistake, yet it is inevitable. We simply need to struggle with this problem for life and to find our own way to know God and His real Nature. 

Second - it doesn't matter that I am Catholic. If I would have been Jew or Protestant, and I would have been raised by the same mother in the same family, I would also have a problem with my religion and rites. 

In many points, Luther was right. In others, he wasn't. The whole situation required being discussed in order to find solutions and cure. It didn't require leaving the Church nor making the split. But Luther had his own, deeply hidden agenda - settling up with his abusive father. 

***

First - God is my Father

Second - God is not like my (biological) father

Third - pity Luther didn't know those two things...

Real Reasons

It is good to know what are the real reasons that are hidden behind our decisions and actions. It helps to avoid repeating the same mistakes over and over again. 

Example No 1

Since I remember, I was afraid I will be 'fired': expelled from the school, kicked out of my work... And, sometimes, the fears became truth - once, I almost was fired and once, I did lose my job. But it took me a couple more years to understand that the actual events have nothing to do with the real problem I deal with since I was a little girl. 

As I mentioned in the last post, this feeling was with me while living with my mother - that she somehow had this ability to 'fire' me, to kick me out of this planet, that she will deprive me of basic necessities. I grew up repressing these fears, yet they were always vivid and influencing my life, e.g. in terms of professional path. 

So the real reasons for my anxiety in regard to my work weren't the work itself but never processed trauma.

Example No 2

Six years ago, I terminated contacts with my mother. I simply couldn't force myself to contact her, to talk to her, to see her... And, for all this time, I had no clue why I was so blocked. Well, of course, I knew she is hurting me every time she has an opportunity to do so but, up to that point, I could handle this. So what happened for real?

I remember very well that before the last Christmas we spent together she was insisting I must come to visit her despite I didn't want to. I was tired, exhausted by events at work, by mortgage and depression... But she told me she feels abandoned and alone. So I went. It turned out that, for most of the time, I need to sit home alone myself for she was going out to meet her countless friends and patients (she was a nurse). I felt like an idiot but it wasn't the biggest problem. Once, we met her old friend on the street. Naturally, they started chatting and didn't bother my presence. Suddenly, the friend of my mother's turned on me with the reproach that I am a bad daughter because I am leaving and not visiting my poor mammy. 

"What the f***?!" - I thought to myself. I looked at my mother who was smiling with satisfaction, nodding. In one second, I realized this old witch had been gossiping with her pals about me, saying this bull***ts! I was furious. But, above all, my heart was broken. And it didn't heal since then. 

Now, I understand - my body, stronger than the mind, didn't let me meet her for a good reason. If I was raised in a good atmosphere in which I am allowed to express what I feel and think, I could confront her, tell her what this behavior of hers means to me and that it breaks my heart... Instead, I had to live in this darkness for years. 

Today, I understand that she piled it on, she went too far, broke some boundaries. I don't know, maybe my actions are simple aggression or revenge. It's possible. But I am more and more convinced that she simply doesn't deserve to see me.

Useless

I cannot feel useless. If I feel that I might be accused of being lazy or redundant I start to be scared. And this is not simple anxiety. It is the fear of being destroyed, punished violently. 

When I was a kid I wanted to do things that were interesting for me. And this wasn't only about playing, but about developing my talents, following the voice of my heart. But, as I had mentioned many times, I wasn't allowed. I was meant to be useful, beneficial, redressing loses to my mother and the rest of the world. The loses I caused by coming to this world. And, in the twisted mind of my mother, my talents and hobbies were not the way to fulfill this task. 

She was jealous. She had the conviction that her own childhood was lost, for she had to work very hard at parent's household. And I am sure, at some point, it was the truth - she was used by them and didn't get what she should have got. So seeing me playing and enjoying the life was a thorn in her side. She somehow thought that she will regain what she lost by taking me happiness. And, among other parents, she wasn't such a big exception. On the contrary - the world is full of jealous and vicious mothers.

But this topic is not important today. Now, the most crucial thing is fear. Every time I feel I might be punished I also experience the end of the world. My world. And the question I need to ask is: why? This again is something coming from the wrong mindset. My mother was so terrifying with her reactions that I, as a little girl, was constantly afraid of... 

Yes, and this is the word I have been missing. 

Afraid of what exactly? 

Nowadays, I would say that of being 'fired' with all the consequences - losing basic goods that ensure I can exist; being persecuted by people and institutions I owe the money; becoming an outcast etc.

Since she and other people from those past times are not around me, and since I didn't process this very problem internally, I have been trying to recreate this situation in current events. And there is no simpler way to do so than work and people I work for. Not the people I work with but the persons of whom my future depends on.

The Last Prince

What is worse - living with vain hopes that the most important people in your life love you or to be aware that they have never even had the will to love you?

At the first glimpse, the latter seems to be much more painful. For me, it was so. Until I realized how much more I can achieve while being awakened not deluded. 

Nor my parents or the men I loved even liked me. I was only the mean for them to reach their own goals. As long as I played the roles they had written for me they somehow were showing me interest. There was one thing for sure - in order to gain their attention I couldn't be really me. 

For a very long time, I was absolutely sure I will die if I will not win this attention, acceptation, and love. I described this mechanism in "The Notes from the Abyss" and I think this very awareness helped me cope with current circumstances. 

Meeting people who are like our parents is inevitable. After all, there are no so many differences between us. The problem is we cannot let them lure us into their games. And not to set up our own decorations. 

I lately came across one person, so much alike to other characters I met. The person whom I, unfortunately, must work with. And as I wrote before, there is sabotage of my work, lies, passive-aggressive approach - and all these blended with compliments and nice behavior. But I always know that something is going wrong. I feel it and I can tell by poor results in my activities despite my efforts.

In me, whole this situation triggered the sequence of emotions, thoughts, reactions... It was like a storm, this havoc I was writing about some time ago. My world number one has been awakened. Old wounds have been opened. The very old wounds. One experience I forgot about... It turned out that it is still vivid and influences me on daily basis and that I wasn't aware of that until the situation.

Emotional Intelligence

The problems with mental health are coming directly from the mindset that is influencing our nervous system. The way we think about ourselves and the situations we are in, the algorithm of decisions we make and the actions we undertake - all these things are strictly connected to what is happening in our brains. The brains shaped during our childhood when we learned how to think, decide and act. 

But it is extremely hard to understand what the current situation has to do with the past, especially when everything seems to have no sense...

Why I am not able to speak to certain people even if I don't know them well?

Why I feel frozen while meeting this or that person?

Why I am feeling intimidated or ashamed in their presence?

At some point, I answered these questions many times. Yet, I didn't feel free.

Because 'feeling free' is the wrong mindset. I am not supposed to feel free, I am supposed to be pissed. 

When someone is hurting me, a natural reaction is an outrage. But if you were trained to suppress this emotion and, what is worse, to feel guilty for whole the situation, you will never have the chance to act properly - not to escape, not to be frozen, not to let others hurt you even more.

If aggression and violence were the only response to our anger when we were toddlers, later on, the one and only reaction for this emotion is fear. We are scared that we will be punished for feeling this so-called 'negative' emotion. Thus we never learn how to cope in difficult and stressful circumstances. I have not acquired this capacity whatsoever. 

Sometimes, the expression of our anger should be controlled so that it won't turn into aggression. Reactions of civilized people meant to be adequate and... calculated, for attacking someone who is pissing us off may have fatal consequences, e.g. losing the job. 

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

"There must be something in me, some failure they can see and feel and this is why they behave so badly"

In this one sentence, I contained the fundamental cause of helplessness of people who cannot leave their own loop of mental problems - guilt. 

Every single person who uses violence 'professionally' knows very well that he or she remains with impunity until the victim feels responsible for everything that is happening. 

Not once, we had heard from our parents: "You did this so now I am angry" or "This is your fault I am mean for you". 

Since the cradle, we learn that we are the ones who are to be blamed for the violence we experience. We seek this reason in us and thus, one day, we really become bad people, like in self-fulfilling prophecy. And the parents are saying, nodding their heads: "I was always sure you are worthless". 

I think that playing others with guilt - especially those weak and dependent - is the worst kind of violence. This is like keeping someone behind invisible bars. And the hardest thing to accomplish is to set me free from this imprisonment, to change the mindset, for the guilt and blaming myself for everything are the reasons I cannot find the cure for anxiety problems.