When you are the rain on the parade

When you can wish someone well that has hurt you, I would say that you have done well for yourself. I bet you can sleep well at night too.

But when you think that someone is out to get you when in reality that has not done anything to you, perhaps you may want to analyse how you feel about yourself.

Quite often the way you feel about others reflects how you think about yourself. It is a whole lot easier to point fingers at that boogeyman out there than it is to take responsibility for our own shit.

Victim Playing 101.

If the facts are shown to you over and over again and you come up empty-handed with your own, perhaps it is time to sit down and reflect a bit. Is your constant negative mindset (always worrying about things completely out of your control), secrecy (lying to keep people out of your life, thinking if you reveal too much it will be used against you in some way), pessimistic attitude (never imagining a positive outcome because everything is bound to go wrong), having a horrible mental diet (watching violent films, video games, obsessing about wars, keeping the news on even though all studies prove this sort of behaviour ramps up anxiety), they cannot take criticism at all (even trying to communicate anything with them will set them into a fit of rage), they complain about everything, they never do anything out of their comfort zone, they are massive underachievers, and they never think about the future – they miss out on all of the good things in life because they do not recognise joy, passion, contentment and excitement. These are not emotions or sensations that they regularly experience.

And this is never their fault.

Do you have good news? They will put a negative spin on it. They will caution you to be careful, warn you of the dangers and tell you to think carefully before accepting.

If all of this makes you feel insane, take care in knowing it is not you. Caring for someone like this will do your head in. It makes you adapt to their need to push/pull dynamic.

(I started writing this about a week ago. So much has changed since then)

Sunday, the 15th of May.
Pseudologia Fantastica.

All pathological liars have a purpose, i.e., to decorate their own person, to tell something interesting, and an ego motive is always present. They all lie about something they wish to possess or be (Healy & Healy, 1915, p. 16).

When I was young, like in primary school, I would tell people that I lived across the street from where I did. I would have them drop me off at Kathy’s house, the cute little mint-green house with a tidy lawn and matching shutters. Never ever was at my grandmother’s duplex with the shingles falling off and the huge hole in the roof. I know, looking back at it, that everyone knew that I belonged there but no one bothered to correct me.

I also said that Jimi Hendrix or Bob Marley was my father since I had no idea who my father was. A lot of the men that frequented my mother could have been these people and we had a lot of their records (let us dismiss the fact that Jimi was dead before I was born).

I told my teachers that my mother could not come to the open houses every year because she had to work. They all knew she was unemployed.

We all lie for some reason or another. I think a lot of us lie because we are fearful of what hides beneath the fantasy. My father was my mother’s pimp. She did not come to the open houses because she was either high, fucking someone somewhere or truly could care less.

I got lied to about something today that makes way more sense than all of this.

In January, I showed up unannounced at someone’s house that really did not want me there. This person and I argued and he said to me today, “Eleven of my neighbours said that it sounded like you attacked me.”

I blinked and continued the conversation.

Afterwards, these words bothered me (I mean, the whole conversation was awful but for other reasons completely). But this was factually impossible. Let me explain why:
1.) All of his neighbours would have needed to have their windows open to hear this conversation. It was January. In Norway. This is unlikely.
2.) Even if we were screaming at each other, they would have not heard us clearly enough to think there was an attack.
3.) I was crying through most of this conversation.
4.) The way the building is set up there is no way that all 11 people could have heard it.
5.) And even if they did, it seems unlikely that all of them confronted him about a personal conversation. That is not the Norwegian way. And for him to engage in this conversation? Not a chance.
6.) 1 of those 11 people talked to me on my way down the hill. So that already skews his count.

I think he feels that he was attacked so this is his reflection of the situation. I am considering asking one of these people if they said this just to prove a point. But does it matter? I know how this works. I have been down this path before. I prove there was a lie, and he gets annoyed and draws back again.

It was just so he could feel safe in his conviction (noun: a firmly held belief or opinion). I showed up unannounced. I aired out our dirty laundry in a place people could have heard. In the chance they could have heard, they sided with him.

Just like he rang all 40-100+ people he slept with to see who might have complained about him. He said he did not remember all of these people but now suddenly he does?


Psychodynamically, the lies can be said to reflect a primitive defence mechanism against painful effects and serve not only to reject reality but also to create a new reality that allows for wish-fulfilment.”


What would have become of Hercules, do you think, if there had been no lion, hydra, stag or boar – and no savage criminals to rid the world of? What would he have done in the absence of such challenges? Obviously he would have just rolled over in bed and gone back to sleep. So by snoring his life away in luxury and comfort he never would have developed into the mighty Hercules.”

I would have never started this journey to become the person I am becoming without this happening.