The Narcissist on the Seventh Floor: Part Two

Plebe
                                      Plebe

There is no one as compelling  to me as a selfish woman who covertly wants to enslave and debase me.

Thanks to my Mother, contempt is love, greedy emotional neediness is love, destroying my hopes and dreams is love, manipulating to isolate me from all that is good and healthy is love.

I will always let a narcissist back into my life.

But something has changed because I have made therapy my priority.

This is one of the reasons I must be careful about over-extending myself.

Therapy is working, but it’s painful and I use distraction to avoid pain.

In my previous letter to the narcissist on the Seventh floor I changed gender pronouns to distance myself from my rage.

I have a hard time differentiating between my transference projections and what is real.

My therapist and I are working on my rage in treatment; I can see the truth of what happened and I feel a frightening  rage when I realize how much of my life I lost to the twisted agenda of my Mother.

Anger confuses me so I hesitate to trust my instincts.

But a pattern is a pattern.

And when woman who knows my history and who knows the details of the abuse chooses to barge into my apartment and verbally abuse my partner for not opening the door, I know that I must act.

This letter is to my most recent bad Mother; whom I call the Narcissist on the Seventh Floor

Dear Narcissist on the Seventh Floor:

I need to make something clear and in doing so I will not mince words.

Had you not an established pattern of going out of your way to breach my boundaries I would have answered the door today.

I DON’T answer the door because you will use any reason to text, call, and knock when you know I am working.

In fact, your persistent attempts to impose your agenda on me results in resistance.

Had you used your land line to call my land line, my answering machine would have picked up and I would have heard the problem.

You ALWAYS have a way to make contact in a genuine emergency.

You purposely left your cell phone in my apartment to have an excuse to return and break my concentration.

That is not an emergency.

Today you took it a step further; when we didn’t answer the door you chose to enter our apartment.

Not only did you CHOOSE to enter our apartment uninvited, you berated my partner for not answering the door.

You owe him an apology for attempting to dump your shame on him.

I don’t expect you to give it.

Not answering the phone and door are the only strategies we have for managing your intrusive behavior, short of kicking you out of our lives.

This gets to the point of this email.

We don’t answer the door because you never, never, never have a reason for knocking, other than your belief that you have the right to do as you please regardless of the many discussions we have had about your behavior and its impact on us.

We don’t answer the door because of your demonstrated refusal to exercise control over your needy and controlling behavior.

Not only do you NOT have a reason to knock on the door; you never have the right to enter our apartment uninvited.

My partner and I spend far too much time trying to work around your attempts to dump your shame and arrogance on us.

You and I both know that you are not as as “ditzy” and as stupid as you want people to think you are.

You can get away with the helpless little woman crap with the other tenants in the building, but I know you; I know your dishonesty and your barely concealed contempt for other people.

You are not stupid.

Therefore, it is my opinion that you too malevolent and pathological for friendship with me.

I will only communicate with you only when necessary.

I will be polite but I will not engage with you.

I fully expect you to involve the rest of the building in whatever sob story of ingratitude you concoct but I’m used to that…I can deal with that.

I don’t expect you to apologize or to take responsibility for yourself.

I expect you to do what you do best, which is lie.

So, I set you free to be the toxic narcissist that you are.

I set you free to be alone, which is really what you deserve.

And that is my last word.

Robert Goldstein

19 thoughts on “The Narcissist on the Seventh Floor: Part Two

  1. Your mother sounds like a mother with classic Borderline Personality Disorder, never respecting that her own children are not an extension of herself. Living her own life through her children, never giving them autonomy. I cringe when I read this because it describes my own bad Mother. I respect you for having the ability to put up with your’s. I went NC (no contact) with mine just shy of 3 years ago. I realized that she would never be the Mother that I expected her to be, and that it was unfair of her to force me to jump through her never-ending hoops and expectations just so she could change them up again and start a different game that her crazy mind had conjured up. The rules always changed. I have never felt a greater peace in my life. Simply walking away is very empowering. Coming from another’s loins doesn’t mean you must suffer your life away in gratitude to them.

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    1. My Mother had a nervous breakdown shortly after her Father died when she was 16. Unfortunately the stigma against mental illness was differently awful when she was 16. People simply pretended that no one had it unless the neighbors found out — then they were locked away. Sadly, rather than change the laws and regulations that governed state hospitals our we closed them completely. The thing that kills me is that she knew that something was wrong and tried to get her family to help; but they didn’t–they thought they could force her to stop having a mental illness with threats…I wrote about this if your interested:

      http://wp.me/p47Ymh-dr

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  2. And no doubt the narcissist on the seventh floor with call you pathetic, childish, selfish, and try to maintain her victimhood. Gah. Sorry, that’s so sad. Stay strong!

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    1. It’s horrible and here is what makes it worse…I’ve done this once—she got back in by sending me a condolence card when my cat died…I’ve never let myself love an animal the way I loved that cat–so I was vulnerable. So the worst part of all is that I was the one that let it happen. Thank you for reading the post and leaving a comment: Oh yes…she tells the neighbors all about my abusive mental illness.

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