Category Archives: musing

Surviving betrayal

I was lynched recently by a small group of my oldest friends. It was not the traditional necktie party of places like Texas and Louisiana where a worked up crowd grabs you, puts a rope around your neck, tortures you a bit and lets you hang, sometimes burning you afterwards, sometimes before. My lynching was conducted in slow motion, over the course of months, with many a twist and turn as the rope was tightened, and loosened, and I managed to forget about it for days at a time, hoping for the best. Fortunately for me, when these righteously aroused fucks finally pulled the rope tight I survived.

It may seem offensive to describe my sudden and unanimous ostracism by friends of five decades as a lynching. Lynching is offensive, one of the most disgusting things humans do to each other. Perhaps we might better think of it as a pogrom, a worked up crowd comes to your neighborhood, breaking windows, plundering, setting things on fire, beating, killing and showing perfect contempt all around. There is no anodyne image to conjure being put to silence forever by a group of your closest friends.  

You may not speak about it with any of them, which feels like a great betrayal. since these are people you used to have heart to heart talks with. They will not listen, do not care about your feelings, since they’ve already blamed you, convicted you, excommunicated you and felt perfectly righteous doing so. A secret trial is all a despicable criminal deserves when the crime is so hideous, inhuman, unforgivable. 

You will undoubtedly feel a strong urge to defend yourself, set the record straight, correct outright and obvious lies told about you, but let me assure you, as I would have assured myself had I known sooner, nothing you can say will change an outcome that has already been agreed to. You can’t unsee the face of contempt and the firm intent to make you shut up forever if you have a problem being treated the way you are lyingly complaining about being treated.

Human society functions by believing stories, sometimes absurd ones, that explain the world in a way that makes emotional sense. Love is the highest value, and kindness to others, and forgiveness. Makes a lovely story to believe in., to live by. Someone who does not love, is cruel to others and can’t forgive is clearly beyond redemption. Tell that story about someone with enough passion, get a length of sturdy rope, let the guilty party talk his head into the noose and the rest follows naturally.

Live and learn, to me, is a much better formula for a good life than live and be enraged and never take a single lesson from anything painful. Many people are average, many below average, many are emotionally incapable of anything beyond the superficial performance of friendship. As long as everyone is smiling, joking, hugging and laughing, everything is fine in a group of old amigos. As soon as conflict arises and one accuses another (usually behind their back) of being a vicious, sadistic, unloving, unforgiving Nazi the real fun begins, masks come off and you see what your friends are actually made of.

We have a strong need to belong to a group, to be attached to people who love us, think like us, understand and forgive us. This attachment need explains the enthusiasm of sports fans, fans of angry politicians, cults, militias and so on. We are also born with a strong need to be authentic, to be listened to and heard, to be allowed to express things that trouble us, talk about things that need to be fixed going forward.

As I have learned, in my seventh decade of life, there are people who grow up with no tools to resolve conflict, no way to compromise. When you get into any kind of conflict with one of these super-competitive, hierarchy-embracing folks good will, extending the benefit of the doubt, demonstrations of friendship, patience, kindness etc. are of no use. If you have done all these things and are treated like a monster, it is not you, trust me. It is right to extend loving indulgence to friends, until they demand that you shut the fuck up about what you claim is your hurt and accept that they have every right to do the same whenever they want and to shut you up any time you make them feel bad about themselves. Fuck those putos.

And a very happy, productive 2024 to all!

 

Narcissistic rage is not just anger

Anger is a response to something that feels like an attack. When the attack subsides, and the threat is gone, healthy anger, having served its evolutionary purpose, fades away. Rage is a different, deeply rooted, much more destructive creature. When it is unleashed it calls for destruction.

I grew up in a home where outbursts of anger were common. The thing that took me decades to understand was that sometimes this anger was rage. Rage has no end. It can’t be reasoned with or placated, ever. It erupts like a volcano and melts everything in its path.

When you encounter rage, know what you are up against. If a person flies into a rage because they feel defied, and cannot be calmed down, it tells you they lack an adult ability to resolve conflict and operate at an immature emotional age.  Being stuck in the helpless feelings of hurt they had at three years old is a shameful thing, and the humiliation of being seen losing control fuels rage, the desperate cover-up of rage and the reflex to blame someone else, everyone else, for your own inability to control your emotions.

It took me years to understand why telling a person prone to rage that they played a role in causing pain sends them into a rage. Rage is their defense against feeling vulnerable, which they equate with being fatally humiliated. In attacking someone else they feel momentarily powerful. If you tell them they hurt you, they immediately compare your claim of pain to their own much greater claim to much deeper pain. You will never get anywhere in this contest of competitive suffering, truly a game for losers.

A person who becomes enraged believes the unbearable pain they have endured in silence entitles them to tell anyone else in pain to shut up. Solipsism is a feature of a person who cannot be wrong, the fatalistic view that there is no possibility of anyone understanding what someone else thinks or feels — so shut up about your unknowable interior world. The best response to an enraged person is to get away from them.  

Psychopaths and Narcissists often seem to “win”

Who is more determined to win than someone who sees “losing” as the utter destruction of their sense of themselves? The competitive ruthlessness of this sort is off the charts. If the price of not “winning” is a humiliating death during life, your motivation to dominate, or to kill your opponent, cannot be higher. It’s impossible to understand that someone you care about is like this, until you encounter that fatal conflict, which will often be the first and last. 

Of course, these words you are reading are being written by a quintessential loser, so take that into consideration. I have no power, political, economic or social. In such conflicts I have only my mind, my integrity and my sense of right and wrong, puny tools, it must be said, against the will of someone who will not be defeated, no matter what. Day to day there is also my sense of humor, which will not be evident in these pages, but that too can be turned into another reason to string me up by people given to that sort of thing. Trying to be funny, and making people laugh as though I am, when I am actually the most despicably camoflagued Nazi on the scene!!! Think of how quickly any funny man’s humor can turn to acid when you learn the guy is, say, a rapist who drugs his victims.

To a narcissist bent on victory, no matter what the facts may say about a given contest, there is always spin – your version of the facts that makes you, in fact, the winner, completely in the right. All you need to do is shut down the so-called facts of any so-called witnesses. Nobody is brave once the brave guy next to them is tortured to death, disemboweled and had their head placed on a pike. If there is evidence that can be used against you, bring pressure to bear to make that evidence go away. If the evidence is needed in a timely manner, say to avoid the statute of limitations, or to get past the ‘stop being an asshole and get over it’ deadline, keep the matter of its admissibility tied up in court until you run out the clock. All one needs is the will to do these things, and the power, and nobody can defeat you.

Oh, you can marshal the supposed facts into a so-called logical, arguably persuasive version of what you say happened? You can speak dispassionately and make your case appealing, intellectually and emotionally, to common sense, fairness and basic goodness? Good for you! I will utterly destroy you, funny man. Those “qualities” of yours can easily be turned against you, vicious hypocrite. I can cry, I can wheedle, I can rage, threaten, appeal to loyalty, to love, mercy, forgiveness, to the head on the fucking pike, to God, family, tribe, country, I can refute your “truth” with very compelling lies that will turn you into the irredeemable liar I say you are. Watch how fast most people will fall in line with this kind of thing, clown.

Watching this horror show play out on the national news every day, with one of our political parties, it is particularly unnerving to see it reenacted by a group of my oldest, closest friends. One day none are my friends, because I’ve had a conflict with another friend in the group who felt I defied her. Defying the will of a friend, boys and girls, a crime only a monster would commit, think about it. Then I made her feel terrible after her husband humiliated her by forcing her to apologize to me for flying into a sustained rage. She was not going to take this defiance from her spineless sadomasochistic husband too, and so he told me, after weeks of aggrieved, tooth-sucking silence, “I’ve walked away from friendships for less than what you did to me.” His wife regarded me coolly as her husband made this announcement.

His threat reminds me of a ridiculous ultimatum issued by another old friend, a guy I knew since fourth grade. A very nervous man, uncomfortable in his own skin to an alarming extent, he texted me that we could not talk on the phone, that it had to be in person. He drove to meet me so we could have the conversation his marriage counselor had urged him to have with his closest friend. He arrived with his eye ticking and face atwitch. After a few moment of small talk, in response to my question, he told me why he’d insisted on meeting in person. He had to confront me because I had, either intentionally or thoughtlessly, tried to deliberately destroy his marriage. His marriage, one should note, was a long hellscape featuring all the ravages of war. I was puzzled, but instead of telling him to fuck himself and his nightmare fucking marriage, and the fucking marriage counselor who had told him “your wife cannot respect you if you’re too much of a pussy to confront your closest friend after what your wife claims he did to you”, I talked things through with him, tried to help any way I could. Needless to say, I couldn’t help.

His divorce a few years later did nothing to improve our chances of being friends again, in spite of my efforts to do so. After all, he had been completely innocent and a good person during the years of our long friendship, while I… he didn’t even have the words to describe me. I was simply wrong, about him, his motivations, everything.

This is often the case, we learn, when you reach any sort of impasse with this kind of person. It is the reason Trump’s lawyers argue he must have an immediate adjudication of his complete immunity from all lawsuits and prosecution in one case against him and, at the same time, that he must be given maximum time to have the issue of his complete immunity decided in another case. He can argue an urgent rush to avoid irreparable harm in case one, and an equal urgency to have the court to take as much time as possible to decide the identical question in another case where delay is his only hope of “victory”.

These motherfuckers are never constrained by a need to be consistent, logical or fair. They have only one aim: victory at any cost, because winning is worth any price – since losing is a fate worse than a tortured death itself.

Sadists view pain differently (notes for the ongoing work)

They say isolation is the best thing for pain, physical, and emotional. By they, I mean, of course, the sadists.  

A sadist will always insist that whatever hurts you the most is the best thing for you. After all, that’s their fucking credo, getting a superior thrill out of the pain they cause another.

“Don’t worry,” they will say “your suffering is really for the best. Truly, it’s the best thing for you and it will improve your character and your outlook both. You just can’t understand it because you’re too weak and by weak I mean fit to be dominated, to your breaking point, by the unsmiling likes of me.”

I never understood, until my fatal falling out with two old friends and their extended family, (actually, it was about a year before the fatal falling out became irrevocable,) that both partners in a couple can be both the sadist and the masochist.  They take turns in these roles and their grim struggle over who will give the merciless pain, and who will receive it at any given moment, is a highly addictive feature of their sacred bond with each other.

Mind you, these two were my very best friends, friends I never thought to doubt.   Thinking about it now, though it made me very sad to watch day after day of that vacation from hell, I have no problem with their painful arrangement, truly.   It is how they express their love for each other and it’s much different from my best idea of how to do that, but seeing them mercilessly at work on each other was not the deal breaker in our long friendship.  It was their shame and anger afterwards at being seen that way, and their need to blame and kill the witnesses, after destroying my good name among a large group of our friends.  Like enraged, morally rigid three year-olds in a brutal war to the death with a hated enemy with infectious cooties.  More grotesque by far at the age, nearing seventy, when the last chapter of our lives is unfolding, culminating, winding down, amid all the usual tragedies. 

They will blame their inability to reconcile conflict completely on you, and you will be the cause for all the terrible hurt, the rage and all the unforgiveness.  The worst thing of all, they will piously inform you and everyone else, is not to forgive someone who loves you.  And because you’re unforgiving, they will demand that nobody they influence or control forgives you either. Being united in punishing your inhumanly unforgiving nature is a rare instance of justice in an unjust world.  A group can really bond around a righteous cause like that.

The Aftermath (another thought)

The reflex to react with pain, to lash out, to righteously mete out punishment according to its due, is a feature among humans, and very common. The thing that matters most about this impulse to lash out is what happens next.  If you calm down, listen and speak softly, like mensches, like friends, this kind of human exchange usually pacifies everyone. If it doesn’t, if the conflict must last to the death and everybody must choose between good or evil, black and white, on pain of their own death, you may have to reevaluate the other parties in the conflict.

A word from our old friend physical pain

Emotional pain hurts like hell, unless you can isolate the cause and find some kind of peace.   Physical pain works the same way, but the immediate and inescapable physicality of it demands our full attention sometimes.

Emotional suffering can find a moment of relief in distraction and a good laugh makes your heart work and pumps out endorphins.  Pain in your body is a different animal, insistent and hard to distract yourself from for long. I am reminded of this every few minutes recently as I await tests to determine the source of bleeding (and inflammation, stiffness and pain) in my prosthetic knee joint, installed eight months ago, and see what the medical industry has in store for me next.

What the child of a narcissist never gets

If your parent cannot be wrong, ever, then you must be wrong whenever you feel they have hurt you, are being unfair or indifferent to you. It’s simple math, really. For a narcissist, admitting fault and expressing regret is as humiliatingly painful as conceding they are worthless and unworthy of love or respect. They live in a perilous black and white mine field of a world, zero-sum, win-lose, and see all conflict through that wary, limiting, reptilian lens.

The child never gets the chance to experience being treated fairly, since that could involve the parent, incapable of being wrong, feeling bad about something unfair, thoughtless or cruel that they did. The child never gets to be heard in any dispute, same reason. The child never learns from her parents that people can resolve disputes amicably, since all they will see in any dispute is a grim and threatening war face and the angry, unbending insistence characteristic of narcissists.

In another family the child might learn that everybody makes mistakes, and that mistakes should be acknowledged, forgiven and learned from. That an honest conversation can clear up a lot of misunderstanding and lead to real peace and growth. That feelings can be safely expressed. That one willful adult doesn’t always get the last word on everything. If you know that everyone makes mistakes, that talking things through can make everyone feel better, that sincere apology and forgiveness are real things, then you have optimism about life. You understand that change is sometimes necessary and growth is a real possibility.

If you grow up in the paranoid, adversarial world of someone who can never be wrong, all bets are off for hope and change, unless you do tremendously hard work to recover some optimism. If someone cannot be wrong they also can’t be introspective or vulnerable. A person like that has little hope for progress of any kind, only continued implacable domination of anyone they fancy weaker, or stronger, than they are.  

This video lays things out beautifully. The survivor of narcissism has a hard time grasping that basic things people not raised by narcissists take for granted, some kind of fairness, a bit of respect, the right to be listened to when troubled, are actually possible.

transcribed from the video:

I can tell you what normal is not. It is not normal to grow up hating yourself or wondering why you aren’t enough or for a child to believe that they are responsible for a parents feelings, or that a child who wants to just be seen and heard, and loved for who they are is being a needy brat.   It is not normal to be in a relationship where you walk on eggshells and feel crazy and feel that the only way to get your needs met is to give in on everything. 

It is not normal to hold back on saying something for fear of being shouted down or gaslighted.  It’s not normal to watch a parent being manipulated and devalued and broken down by your other parent. None of this is normal.  

Normal, if I were to speculate, is feeling safe, feeling that you are worth, at least, being listened to.   Normal is respect.  Normal is  empathy.  Normal is being able to say what you need and maybe the other person can’t or won’t meet it but they do not shut you down and tell you that you are selfish or greedy for wanting something basic. 

Normal is being able to have a normal disagreement, where everything is not  personalized and you are attacked for just not getting into line with the other person.  Normal is people getting along and collaborating and not just one person holding court.    But folks, normal, that’s all survivors of narcissistic relationships want and it is not grandiose to want normal.

You might be a writer

It could be that the reason you write every day, the reason you need to write and edit what you write every single day, is because you are actually a writer. This is a quirk of personality in some people, they need to clearly set things out in front of themselves, set them in front of other people once in a while.  Not everyone feels this need, you know.  You might really be a writer if you can’t stop, if you have to write every goddamned day.

On the other hand, you might just be a narcissistic jackass who thinks the same kind of things that everybody sometimes wrestles with in their lives, thinking these common thoughts are particularly interesting in your own case. Something that strikes you as an insight makes you feel a sudden need to put into words and share because doing this makes you feel focused and important for a moment, this fleeting thrill of self-revelation.

There are plenty of other hands, too. You might’ve really stumbled on something truly interesting. You might actually be an introspective, receptive person who thinks interesting thoughts, expresses them in a personal way that other people might actually be interested in, but who the fuck knows?  Unless, of course, you get paid for your words, in which case, there is no doubt.

If I were writing a book, and that’s not to say that I’m not, I would be steadily assembling all these pieces of a perplexing puzzle, a puzzle that vexes me, anyway, and struggling to tell the story in a way that might shed some light on somebody else’s similar struggle. How many asshole parents have left their adult children with partial puzzles, most of the pieces missing, set them into a dark, cold room and said, often from the grave “I always told you you were a clueless piece of shit.” 

Personally, I have no idea how many people need to write every day, there are no doubt statistics that can be pulled out of the collective anus, but that is a story for another day, and one that wearieth me too much at the moment to wrestle with and render in feeble, tottering words.

Until tomorrow, my friend, I salute you.

What would the führer do? (Part 2)

It’s not hard to imagine what a an autocrat would do in any given situation, just ask yourself “what would the führer do?”

Picture meeting the führer, someone given to extreme temper tantrums when opposed, prepared to throw himself on the floor, shriek, kick his feet, bite the legs of the chairs, the carpet, sob, threaten, perform a terrifying, disorienting display of insane need for total dominance. Not to mention a violent vindictive streak and deep personal pleasure taken in the fatal suffering of his enemies.  

Then picture ever disagreeing with or contradicting that titan of will. Imagine that kind of shameless, insane, vengeful, murderous asshole, that personality, in charge of an entire nation.  It’s very easy to imagine what the führer would do in any given situation just as it’s easy to imagine what Jesus would do, or Buddha, or any prophet or person of righteousness you’d like.

Fascism is the dream state of the powerful narcissist, because under fascism, the will of the leader, and those who benefit from the leader’s will, is the only law of society and society’s only value. Charles Koch’s dream world, the dream of his loveless father fucking Fred Koch, who, as he created his psychopath sons, built the oil refineries for Hitler’s Luftwaffe, and Frederick Christ Trump, the highly successful psychopath who exploited government incentives after World War II to build middle-class housing, and then along with his filthy ilk, forced the creation of the Fair Housing Rights Act in 1965, which he fought with all his might using the Devil’s own Roy Kohn, alternately humiliating and supporting his own second choice idiot son Donald, all the while. 

Fascism is the dream state of any psychopath who dreams, joylessly, of bending the world to his insane will.

Happy 75th, Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Seventy-five years ago today, on December 10, 1948, the United Nations General Assembly announced the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). 

At a time when the world was still reeling from the death and destruction of World War II, the Soviet Union was blockading Berlin, Italy and France were convulsed with communist-backed labor agitation, Arabs opposed the new state of Israel, communists and nationalists battled in China, and segregationists in the U.S. were forming their own political party to stop the government from protecting civil rights for Black Americans, the member countries of the United Nations nonetheless came together to adopt a landmark document: a common standard of fundamental rights for all human beings.

The United Nations itself was only three years old, having been formed in 1945 as a key part of an international order based on rules on which nations agreed, rather than the idea that might makes right, which had twice in just over twenty years brought wars that involved the globe. In early 1946 the United Nations Economic and Social Council organized a nine-person commission on human rights to set up the mission of a permanent Human Rights Commission. Unlike other U.N. commissions, though, the selection of its members would be based not on their national affiliations but on their personal merit. . .

. . . The U.N. official noted that the commission must figure out how to define the violation of human rights not only internationally but also within a nation, and must suggest how to protect “the rights of man all over the world.” If a procedure for identifying and addressing violations “had existed a few years ago,” he said, “the human community would have been able to stop those who started the war at the moment when they were still weak and the world catastrophe would have been avoided.”

Drafted over the next two years, the final document began with a preamble explaining that a UDHR was necessary because “recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world,” and because “disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind.” Because “the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highest aspiration of the common people,” the preamble said, “human rights should be protected by the rule of law.”

Heather Cox Richardson

Truth and Reconciliation

Reconciliation is a beautiful thing. After a bitter struggle, if the two sides can regain trust in each other, reconcile and live in peace, it is the greatest example of redemption imaginable.

What makes reconciliation so difficult is the necessity for truth, the requirement that what causes the pain between the parties is addressed, so that there can be real resolution of the bitter conflict.  Without truth, reconciliation is one side agreeing that anything bad that caused the strife is better forgotten than actually addressed and rectified.

Certain things can’t be rectified without tremendous willingness to forgive on the side of the person wronged. No matter how great the willingness, truth is always an essential ingredient of real reconciliation.  Without an honest back and forth there can be no real meeting of the minds, no chance for true redemption.

If I lynched your brother, no matter how badly I felt about it afterwards, I still lynched your brother.   If we want to have reconciliation and I insist that at the time I lynched your brother I was completely right to do it, that story will never be reconciled with what you need after I lynch your brother.  

If I tell you to get over that unfortunate thing that happened to your brother, (distancing myself from my actions with the passive voice, as first year law students are taught to do when they have to admit an inconvenient fact), we have nothing: no truth, no reconciliation.

We can’t heal from an injury inflicted by someone else unless that injury is addressed, unless we have some assurance going forward that the same actions that caused the injury won’t be repeated. Humans usually get very defensive after they lose control and do something atrocious, they would rather not look squarely at something terrible they may have done when they lost control. 

Much easier to forget, justify, split hairs about it, tell you to get over it, blame you for being unforgiving if you don’t get over their little mistake or their long pattern of consistently similar little mistakes.

When the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa worked, former apartheid torturers cried in guilt for what they publicly acknowledged they’d done to their victims. Sometimes the victims would be so moved by the showing of remorse that there would be tears all around and actual reconciliation in the face of deep, deep regret, after honesty that had to be painful as hell, but no real peace comes without truth. 

The harder that truth is to admit, the more essential it is that it be sincerely acknowledged aloud for peace to follow.  Without truth, reconciliation is as empty as any political slogan you can think of.

Death during life, a grim tragedy

When people you love, who you’ve long celebrated with and comforted in their time of sorrow, who have supported you when you most needed them, all turn their faces away, stop listening to you, tell you to shut up if you need to make an uncomfortable point, insist the problem is you needing to talk about something painful and dark, it is a little foretaste of your own death.

When we are in pain the first thing we need from those closest to us is for them to listen, to hear, to understand why we are suffering. If you are forcibly silenced, on the threat of expulsion from the community, you either meekly accept your muzzling, and live a bullied, depressed, greatly diminished life, or continue trying to make yourself heard. If you persist, with a righteously angry crew that can never be wrong, you will get to experience that special foretaste of death while you and your loved ones are, for the moment, all very much alive.