advice

I didn’t expect to be beguiled. After all, it was barely 10 AM on a hectic Saturday morning filled with errands, but how could I ignore it?

He had to be almost forty. Lean and tan with the legs of a cyclist showing off under a pair of baggie, beige khakis. The flip-flops and Ray Ban’s attempted to shave a decade off that number but with more salt than pepper in his purposely disheveled bedhead…yeah, I’d have to say he was close to forty.

She was eleven.

I know this because I LOVE eleven-year-old girls! They are one of my favorite things on the planet—and she told me. But that came later.

They walked into the bustling nail salon holding hands, both wearing grins like of a pair of Cheshire cats as they finished a giggle that I presume had started in the car. They tried to put an end to it prematurely like you do an ice cream cone in an establishment that doesn’t allow food, but just like it does, the giggle melted and ran between her fingers as she attempted to stifle it with her hand.

Joy doesn’t often enter a building using the front door. It’s like…an anomaly.

Every head turned and we all stared because well—joy had replaced all of the oxygen.

“Can she get a mani-pedi?” He asked like a pro, his hand resting gently on top of her head.

“Sure, have her pick a color,” one of the women closest to the door replied.

Everyone else went back to their respective daydreams. Me? I was enchanted.

As the manicurist ran the water for her pedicure, our little eleven-year-old skip/bounced over to the wall where hundreds of bottles of polish are displayed. I watched her eyes scan all of the various colors like I used to discerningly pick from my giant box of Crayola crayons (the one with the built-in sharpener in the back).

He stood behind her, absentmindedly playing with her long brown hair as she showed him the colors under consideration, weighing in on each one.

“I don’t like that pink as much as the first one,” he said, and “Why don’t you save the neon orange for the summer?” Were a couple of the opinions he offered. He was thoughtful and PRESENT.

Clearly, he adored her.

Once she’d made that huge decision, (and we can all agree right here at the gravity of this right of passage, seeing that the wrong nail color can ruin your life, even if it’s only for a week or until you get home and take it off yourself, wasting $25 and a precious hour of time you can never get back) she plopped into the big chair and made herself comfortable.

I watched him adjust the seat for her, moving it forward so her skinny little legs could reach the roiling blue water of the built-in foot soaking tub.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said, feeling secure that the twenty or so women in the joint would look after his little girl. “I’m going right next door to CVS.” We all shook our collective heads, silently agreeing that it was okay to leave her, but only for a little while. She grabbed onto his fingers as his hand brushed her cheek. “Are we sure about the blue?” she asked him. She seemed to want him to stay longer.

He nodded and walked slowly toward the door, her eyes following his every step. “Daddy!” she yelled above the steady buzz of nail salon gossip, he swung around, “Bring me something?” They both made a fist bump followed by a high five kind of special hand gesture.

Oh, that’s where it starts, I thought.

Fifteen minutes later he returned with a bag of stuff out of which he pulled an Abba Zabba. And even though I thought it impossible—this old-school choice of treat endeared him to me even more.

I fucking LOVE Abba Zabbas.
And Eleven-year-old girls with their dads.
I love blue toenails.
And mani-pedi joy.
And being unexpectedly beguiled on a Saturday morning.

He came back inside after going out to use his cell phone as I was gathering my stuff to leave. He must have called his wife to ask her how much to tip because I saw him fold up a few bills and tuck them into the pocket of his daughter’s jean jacket.

“How old are you?” I asked as I walked by. “I’m eleven,” she replied cheerfully as she worked on her Abba Zabba. “You guys sure are sweet, “ I said, motioning toward her dad. Her face lit up with a big, nougat and peanut butter grin, “We sure are!” she replied without a self-conscious bone in her body.

Just imagine, I thought, with a father like this, what kind of woman this girl will grow up to become.

That thought and their joy stuck with me all day.

Carry on,
xox

I find myself, at the ripe old age of sixty in possession of a life I love, an extra ten, fifteen, twenty pounds, and a finely tuned bullshit detector.

It has been honed and calibrated through the years, no, make that decades, mostly by paying attention to how it feels when something or someone is serving me some “shit of the bull.”

It has become a visceral thing and by that I mean I can smell it—because it stinks.

And it feels really, really bad.

Like fall down the stairs bad.
Like hit by a meteor bad.
Like thirty car pile up on the Interstate caused by a jackknifed big-rig full of dildos (I swear that really happened to me) bad.

You get the picture.

With regard to the meme above, I’m terrible at hiding, well anything, most especially the bullshit—so I don’t.

Neither will I defend it. I may try, but the minute you look at me cross-eyed or call “bullshit!” I cave because
I ALREADY KNEW IT!
I had the t-shirt and the all-day VIP pass.

But throughout my life, the one that continually trips me up is that rascal— rationalization, and it looks like this: me getting out my old Weight Watchers scale and weighing up the pluses and the minuses. The good and the bad.
Tracking columns, keeping score, making lists.

All the while knowing full well that the bad feelings far outweigh the good, that the minus column is as long as the neck of a giraffe, but still, there is that nagging, underlying sense of…what?

What has caused me through the years (although with much less frequency) to override my bullshit detector TO. MY. DETRIMENT?

Obligation. Obli-fucking-gation!

And what is obligation anyway? It’s the “shoulds”. The unspoken agreements. The implied senses of commitment and duty. In other words, things we feel we can’t get out of…alive.

I refer to it as the dreaded seventh sense, and in most people (myself included) it is the most powerful sense of all. If you ask any Catholic, Jew or basically anybody with a mother, they will tell you that their sense of obligation can take over their common sense, their good sense, their sense of self and most importantly it rides roughshod over their sense of what is really important in life—and what is BULLSHIT.

I know I don’t have to plead with you to understand (the last mention in the meme) because, well, you’re here and you’ve read this far so I feel confident that you can relate.

After this most recent, calamity ridden trip down bullshit lane, a route freshly paved by an irrational sense of obligation, I am bruised, battered, beleagured—and smelly, but now my eyes are wide open and I’m hopeful that it will be my last.

How about you?

Carry on,
xox

I believe with every fiber of my being that we ALL have a superpower. The thing or things that we are better at than almost ANYONE else.

Mine is my memory. I remember every word you said, the shoes you wore, and the song that was playing on the radio when you dumped me.
And then there’s my ability to weave that into a story.
Ouch. Oh relax, I’m only joking…sort of.

I have a friend who can make a box of Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies last for more than three days — I know — UNBELIEVABLE. Yet, I have seen it with my own eyes.

Most mothers, including my own, are able to hear the spoken and often un-spoken mischievous musings, whispered plans and naughty plots of their children clear across the house, sometimes from out in the backyard with a cocktail while listening to the Dodger game; or even from the neighbor kid’s treehouse,

“No, you most certainly are NOT going to rig that old clothesline and beat up beach chair into a neighborhood zip line!”

Is she kidding? Could she have cracked our code? How did she know that was our plan? She’s making baloney sandwiches — in a house —down the block.

I was convinced as a child that her pink plastic hair rollers were some kind of sound enhancing devices.

Or how about this other widely demonstrated talent — the eyes in the back of her head trick.

“I see you…give your baby sister her cookie back. NOW!”

How is that possible…she’s driving?

Maternal Superpowers — used mostly in the service of good rather than evil; although as a child, that point was debatable.

My little sister is a kind of Culinary Wonder Woman. She can put together an event or party at the drop of a hint and I can guarantee you — it will be SPECTACULAR.

If you want to feed 6 or 60, it doesn’t matter, call Sue.

She’ll cater it herself with eight to fifteen different appetizers, each more delicious than the next. Then she’ll serve a roast turkey AND a Prime rib, AND a smoked ham AND a goat; all lovingly prepared and garnished to perfection — with thirty-five gourmet side dishes — half of them using kale. That’s a talent.

Oh, and you’d better leave room for dessert. They’ll be seventeen pies, ten cakes, donuts, pastries and fountains of chocolate, both dark and white.

All of them homemade. In her spare time.

Every inch of her home will be decorated for the affair. Gorgeous fresh flowers (grown, picked and arranged by her own loving hands), tablecloths and centerpieces with white twinkle lights hung by Tinkerbelle herself.

You’ll receive a keepsake memento as you enter, and another as you leave (after she gets to know you better). They will be thoughtful and touching things that are personally selected for you and you alone. Things that will make you cry; items you will treasure for years to come. (We haven’t yet figured out how she does that; as far as we can guess she has a team of people who go through your drawers while you’re at the party, then shop, gift wrap and return before you’re ever the wiser.)

If you’re one of the lucky ones she may have put together a slideshow of long forgotten but favorite photographs which will play on an endless loop — with a tear-jerking soundtrack.

Her parties are so inventive and fabulous that Martha Stewart has installed a top-secret party cam just to swipe ideas.

At Christmas, the elves at the North Pole have a Pinterest page of several years of her winter wonderland home and decoration ideas, which they present to Santa as their own — tiny lying slackers.

Susan’s undeniable superpower? — Making people happy with delicious food, beautiful ambiance and her over-the-top thoughtfulness.

My husband has the good fortune to have been blessed, as many of you have, with two superpowers.

He has his MacGyver Superpower and his Sparkle*.
Our friends and I tease him about it…but if you’ve ever been on the receiving end, they are both equally indispensable.

He can build you a house out of eleven Popsicle sticks, a random shard of glass, nine paperclips, one stick of Black Jack gum, and a sweat sock.
With those exact items, he can also fabricate a life raft, patch a blown tire, signal a rescue helicopter, fix a motorcycle, design a prom dress, start a signal fire, and end world hunger.

You want him on your team when the Zombie’s attack.

As for the Sparkle*(ting)…well, those that have been caught in its spell have given us the best table at a packed restaurant, upgraded us to First Class at no charge, overlooking the fact that our three bags each were over the weight limit, and found us front row tickets to a sold out concert.

Men, women, it doesn’t matter, his superpowers don’t discriminate.

Does it only work for he and I? Nope, whole groups of friends have benefited from his equal opportunity Sparkle*.

If he switched to the dark side…the man could rule the world. Seriously.

We all have ‘em these Superpowers— have you figured out what yours is?

Carry on,
xox

Oh, man. Let’s talk boundaries…again.
Because let’s be real here, half of us never set them and get steamrolled and the other half have learned to set them and risk looking like heartless turds. So…
Boundaries — Find them — set them — enforce them.

Sounds easy, right? Yeah, not so much.

“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.”
– Brene Brown

Boundaries with family? Look up “complicated, messy, clown car” in the dictionary and it’s a picture of a family without any boundaries.

I cannot tell you that setting boundaries always has a happy ending. It does not. One player always walks away disappointed and resentful so I suppose the only question we have to ask ourselves is this: Why is okay for me to be that person?

(I’m asking for a friend…)

Carry on,
xox

It’s uncanny. The way certain people in your life, even celebrities, can say or do or post just the right thing at the right time. Like they’re living a life parallel to your own. Liz Gilbert does that a lot. We have some kind of cosmic bond that was anchored by a hug way back in San Jose at an Oprah event.

Anyway, I too woke up this morning in a tangle. I’ve been tangled for a while now. Nothing as devastating as losing a partner like Liz, mine has to do with family and dysfunction, obligation, boundaries, and playing the role of the heartless turd, which is a nickname I gave myself last week before they all could.

When my mind is in distress it makes meditation a Herculean task. Like jumping rope without a bra, all my negative thoughts slap me around. I forget about my heart. I don’t know how I can because it hurts so much, but I do. And I know better.

The world seems very raw to me these days. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think so. Perhaps these words from Liz will remind you, as they did with me—to rest in the heart. Doesn’t that sound better than a boob slap?
I Love you, Liz.

Carry on,
xox

Dear Ones:
I woke up this morning with my mind in a tangle, and my emotions in a storm.

I lay there in bed for a long time, wrestling with my thoughts and fighting hard against my feelings. But I was losing ground. No matter how hard I used my powerful THOUGHTS to try to extract myself from my other powerful THOUGHTS, it didn’t work. My THOUGHTS just got darker, and then my THOUGHTS about my THOUGHTS got more panicked and distressed until new and worse THOUGHTS arose, and now we have a tornado, folks.
(This has happened to me before. But only once or twice.)

My mind thought: I NEED MORE THOUGHTS, TO FIX THESE THOUGHTS! THINK HARDER! FIND A SOLUTION TO EVERYTHING! STOP THIS! GET CONTROL! DIFFERENT THOUGHTS! BETTER THOUGHTS!

Then I remembered: I cannot use my mind to help my mind when my mind is in distress.
At these moments, only the heart can help.

So.
My heart stepped in quietly and said to my tired mind: “Come and rest your tangle here with me. I’ll take care of you, just the way you are.”

My mind said, “But, but, BUT —“

My heart said, “Shhh. I’ve got you.”

Then we all rested together — me, mind, heart.

No solving happened this morning.
Solving doesn’t always have to happen. Sometimes it can’t. Sometimes all you need is a safe place to rest.

HEART.

Then I got up and drew this picture, for the next time I forget.
Onward.
LG

Hey all,
This week, after waiting nine years, my step-father finally, finally, received​ a long overdue and very much-needed​ kidney transplant. This took any plans I may have had about writing anything other than medical information and threw them into the wood chipper.

So, while flipping through Facebook this morning on the toilet at the hospital, I caught this post by Danielle LaPorte and I agreed with every single point—and I think you will too.

I know you’ll cut me a break on displaying anything resembling regular posting while we go through this life-changing​ transition (I’m talking to myself here).

Mucho love-o and carry on,
xox

There are still some basic good manners that should prevail no matter our generation, station, or affiliation. Here’s what it might mean to be classy, kind, and considerate whenever you are able (and we are almost always able):

1. Big Moments deserve a call. When someone texts to tell you they are pregnant, not pregnant, breaking up, getting engaged, got the job, lost the job, saw aliens in the sky… CALL THEM—even if you know they’re going to let it go to voicemail.

2. Bring something when you show up. A small bar of dark chocolate. A few sticks of incense rolled in a piece of paper with a message written on it. A book you read that you’re willing to loan or give. A postcard you had pinned up forever. Small beauty is a big gift.

3. Re: Customer service. It’s often well-meaning, but saying “No problem” when the customer thanks you is not a terrific response. Because it shouldn’t ever be a problem, you’re in the position of service. Powerful replies: You’re very welcome. My pleasure. I’m happy I could help.

4. I’ve heard that spitting on the sidewalk is illegal in the Netherlands. They’re on to something.

5. If you REALLY want to meet up with someone, don’t just say, “Let’s get together soon” and pause, waiting for them to bite or blow you off. If you REALLY want to get together (in person or on the phone) then just make it happen: Suggest a date, commit to calling them in a few weeks to arrange, make it happen. Otherwise… you probably don’t REALLY want to get together.

6. How can I say this lovingly? Please shut the fuck up on your cell phone. We can hear your conversation. And we don’t want to, and you probably don’t want us to either. You may think it’s OK because you think you’re talking at the same volume as you would be if you had your conversation person sitting right there with you. But you’re louder and it’s weird. Take the call when you’re not surrounded by other people, hide under your coat, find a corner, or just… don’t.

7. On a related note: Your earbuds. We can hear your really loud music and podcasts. And we don’t want to. (Also, ear cells that get fried by excessively loud noise do not regenerate. You could go deaf. Might be karma.)

8. If you’re meeting someone at their house or office, especially if it’s one-on-one, do not be early.

9. Don’t film people without their permission to be filmed.

10. Pregnant women don’t want to have their bellies touched, unless they say so. Also, most moms of babies don’t want you to touch their baby. They act nice about it, but they’re cringing inside re: your germs and vibes.

11. When someone is getting divorced and has children, they very likely do not need to be reminded that, “the children are what’s most important”. They are aware. It’s probably why they stayed longer than they should in the marriage. It’s probably one of the most heartbreaking factors of the divorce. They know. No need to mention it.

12. Push your chair back in when you leave.

13. Leave your phone off the restaurant table. I’m really over people who check their phone in between every micro pause. Like, the forty-five​ seconds that I’m “distracted” by giving the waiter my order should not be treated as my absence and your text time. I’m with you. Right there. You asked me for dinner. Because we adore each other. So let’s be adoring.

14. Thank people for the great service. Love on them. I’m so grateful. Thank you for your good care. Thanks for making this easy. Thanks for understanding.

15. Always help people with small kids. They are superheroes.

16. Never be too busy to bring food to a sick friend.

~Danielle LaPorte

Do you care to add any?  Head over to the comments.

 http://www.daniellelaporte.com/good-manners-and-some-wuv-we-could-all-use-more-of-them/

Hi Guys,
I’m in the middle of writing a screenplay, a political thriller set in present-day Washington, and one of my characters studies and profiles narcissists and sociopaths. In my scramble to research the subject just enough to be dangerous, I remembered this article by Dr. Robin Berman, associate professor of psychiatry at UCLA, which was making the rounds on the internet (including this blog) back in 2015 (which seems like such a simpler time).

Narcissist. I had a friend that was married to one, YOU have friends that are married to one. Or working for one. Or were raised by one.

Their behavior is crazy making, reasoning with them is futile, and navigating a relationship is nearly impossible.

And if you’re scrathcing your head and saying, “Naw, that kind of crazy has never been visited on me.” Well, you’re wrong. We can all say we know at least one. Our current President. Don’t believe me? Read the criteria used by professionals at the bottom of the article and assess for yourself.

Really, the entire piece holds some extremely valuable insights and information.
It is WELL worth the read-
Carry on,
xox

“I’ve heard the story countless times. A client comes in confused, hurt, and disheartened, wondering what happened to her fairytale romance that started off with such a bang. Invariably some combination of these words come next: “Prince Charming,” “soulmate,” “man of my dreams,” “swept me off my feet,” “attentive,” “charismatic”…”so all in.”

I am a psychiatrist, not a psychic, but I can predict what comes next: The relationship spirals downward and this so-perfect-he-can’t-possibly-be-real man morphs into something else entirely. Often, something much more disturbing. He needs endless attention, yet nothing she does makes him happy. Everything she says is wrong, as he’s easily injured or angered. She starts to feel very alone in the relationship, confused and unmoored. What’s worse, she might feel like she’s somehow to blame—that she should work even harder to please.

Often, the dynamics play out more insidiously. You talk about an issue, and your partner relates it immediately to something that happened to him; your story fades as his takes over. Or you and your partner disagree and somehow you end up second-guessing yourself as if dissent threatens his very well-being. Any needs you communicate that aren’t in line with his may be thrown back at you as a character flaw. For instance, you tell your boyfriend you won’t be able to get together on your usual date night because of work, and his comeback is: “You’re just not available for a serious commitment right now, and I want a real relationship.” Suddenly you have a global problem and he is a victim. What a head-trip.

“NARCISSISTS TAKE EVERYTHING SO PERSONALLY BECAUSE UNDERNEATH THEIR GRANDIOSE BRAVADO LURKS PROFOUND SELF-LOATHING—THEY NEED TO BE SHORED UP BY CONSTANT EXTERNAL PRAISE.”

If this all sounds familiar, perhaps you, too, are living with or dating a narcissist. The big, charming personality is typical of narcissists. Initially quite likable, they capture everyone’s attention. When they shine their light on you, it is easy to fall hard.

But that fall becomes painful when other narcissistic traits make themselves known. Narcissists are hypersensitive to any perceived critique. Feedback other than flattery feels like a slight and can trigger extreme anger. They feel deeply injured by criticism and have an excessive need for praise and admiration. Any time you express your honest feelings, you might stumble into your partner’s emotional quicksand. This is not what real love feels like.

Falling in love may put you off balance, but standing in love firmly grounds you. An absolute essential ingredient of a good relationship is emotional safety—you need to feel safe to be the real you! But it is very difficult to be yourself when you have such an emotionally volatile partner. Narcissists are often arrogant, self-important, and devoid of empathy. They are so in their own world they can’t even see you. It’s hard to stand in someone else’s shoes when you can’t see past your own. Narcissists see you not as you, but more as an extension of themselves.

To be seen and adored for who you really are, though, is the highest form of romance. I once heard that the word intimacy can be broken down into the words “IN TO ME YOU SEE.”

It is so difficult for the narcissists in your life to truly see you and get you because they are focused on themselves. Their needs steamroll over yours. Talking about how you feel becomes exhausting and frustrating because they can’t truly appreciate your perspective and because you have to sugarcoat everything to not set them off.

“IF HE EASILY CONDEMNS THOSE HE PREVIOUSLY CHERISHED, CHANCES ARE THAT DARK LIGHT WILL SHINE ON YOU AT SOME POINT, TOO.”

A patient once told me this story: “When I was newly married, we saw the movie Inception. When we walked out of the theater and I said I didn’t like it, my husband flew into a rage. ‘What?! We love thought provoking movies! How could you not get that story?!’ I remember thinking ‘Who is we?’ His reaction was so full of wrath, I was scared to speak up. From that point on, more and more pieces of my true self went silent.”

This exemplifies how quickly the benign can become malignant and destroy emotional safety. Even disagreeing about what you think of a movie can trigger your partner’s disapproval or anger. Living with or dating narcissists feels like you have to tiptoe around minefields and are constantly on guard to not set them off. Narcissists take everything so personally because underneath their grandiose bravado lurks profound self-loathing—they need to be shored up by constant external praise. Their fuel is admiration, and they need you to reflect their magnificence because they truly don’t feel it themselves. Being that perfect, flattering mirror is depleting, and after awhile, your needs become enmeshed with theirs. You lose sight of where they end and you start. You become so busy shoring up the narcissist that you have nothing left for yourself. You tend to disappear.

Meanwhile, as you are doing all that work to build up your partner, he or she may be busy tearing others down. The classic example comes from Snow White and the narcissistic Evil Queen. Maleficent needs constant reassurance from her Magic Mirror that she, indeed, is the fairest of them all. But once Snow White comes into the picture, Maleficent feels threatened by the competition and sets out to destroy her.

“YOU MAY HOLD ONTO THE FANTASY THAT IF YOU SHORE THEM UP ENOUGH, THEY WILL EVENTUALLY GET AROUND TO TAKING CARE OF YOU, TOO. UNFORTUNATELY, MORE OFTEN THAN NOT, THIS WON’T BE THE CASE.”

In real life, narcissists need to cut down others to build themselves up. Even when you are in the glow of a new relationship, and the charm offensive is blindingly bright, watch for clues that all may not be well. If he needs to criticize others to show how grand he is by comparison, he will likely do the same to you. Besides noticing how he treats the people around him, look at his history. Is it filled with long-term friendships or littered with relationships—romantic or business—in which he has inevitably been wronged? If he easily condemns those he previously cherished, chances are that dark light will shine on you at some point, too. The narcissist who keeps himself elevated by putting down others eventually might become competitive even with you.

Narcissists hoard attention, interrupt conversations so that they can steer it back to themselves, and are more concerned with their feelings than anyone else’s. Their theme song is, “Enough about me, let’s get back to me.” If you are living with a full-fledged narcissist, you know first-hand how this can interfere with their ability to relate to you and to your kids.

“My marriage was great before we had kids. I knew that my husband needed a lot of attention, but I never realized how much, until I stopped giving it to him in the usual doses, because I was so busy caring for our baby. I could no longer be so focused on him. Our relationship got ugly fast.”

Before having children you had more energy to attend to the narcissist. Some narcissists feel threatened and jealous of the attention that you devote to your kids; other narcissists use their children to feed their ego, and others are so preoccupied with themselves that they completely neglect their kids. Of course, all of these are detrimental to a child.

“THE JOURNEY TO DISCOVERING YOUR AUTHENTIC SELF REQUIRES YOU TO GET PAINFULLY HONEST TO WORK THOUGH YOUR DISTRESSING FEELINGS.”

Disagreeing with a narcissist or working through issues is extremely difficult.
In addition to their inability to see your point of view, they cannot own their stuff. Their extreme defensiveness shuts down their ability to learn, and that impinges on your ability to grow as a couple. Narcissists simply do not make good partners.

You may hold on to the fantasy that if you shore them up enough, they will eventually get around to taking care of you, too. Unfortunately, more often than not, this won’t be the case. But if part of life’s journey is knowing yourself, the narcissist in your life can be a great teacher. The journey to discovering your authentic self requires you to get painfully honest to work through​ your distressing feelings. Here are some questions that can lead you to clarity and help you figure out whether you just need more tools to cope, or you really need to extricate yourself.

TOUGH QUESTIONS
Why did you pick him or her? Does she remind you of the way you were loved by one or both parents? Have you just unknowingly repeated the scene of the original crime—your own childhood? Or are you trying, with your partner, to have a happier ending than you did with your parents?

Are you depressed? Swallowing anger and hiding your real self can lead to depression.

Are you exhausted from tap dancing around someone’s fragility? Do your constant attempts to please him require a hyper-vigilance that is draining? Are you working to hide your partner’s volatility and fragile ego from your kids and your friends?

Are you seeing things as they are, or are you making constant excuses? Try to get an honest picture of what’s going on. Don’t skew the data.

Do you feel like your needs are constantly overshadowed in spite of all of your efforts to communicate them? Have things gotten so bad that you’ve stopped trying to communicate them because it feels pointless? Or is there safe space for your feelings?

Are you being gaslighted? (ALTERNATE FACTS)
Narcissists have a tendency to deny things they said, or claim they said something else. They rewrite history. They are unaware of the impact they are having on you or others. This is crazy-making. Beware of this distortion and don’t buy into it.

Does your partner have a history of healthy, intimate relationships? Or is there a long-standing pattern of unstable relationships, whether romantic, friendly, or professional? History doesn’t lie, so pay attention to it.

How do you feel when you are with your partner: Separate and whole, or enmeshed and sucked into​ their drama? Does being around your partner make you feel peaceful or on edge?

Since living with or dating a narcissist, do you feel like you are a better version of yourself? Take a moment to compare how you feel about yourself before you met your partner, and now.

PROTECT YOURSELF
A. ASSESS

Is this relationship worth saving? Be honest, how extreme is your partner’s narcissism—is it just a few traits, or is it more encompassing? Full-blown narcissism (see chart below) is hard to live with. A few traits can be manageable. If you choose to work on the relationship, know that at any time, the healthiest choice may be to leave.

In assessing the extent of the problem, be cautious when you see hints of a more evolved partner. Recognize whether these moments are fleeting or a bigger piece of the picture. Don’t make too much of the glimpses of improvement. Manage your expectations. The narcissist in your partner likely will not disappear. Unless there is consistent growth, decide if a sporadic connection is enough to sustain you.

B. SET PARAMETERS FOR STAYING

If you decide to stay in the relationship, both of you must recognize the problem and the role each of you plays in perpetuating it. Also, and this is crucial, he must commit to getting professional help in working to change his behavior. In a therapist’s office, as time makes him feel safe, he can get underneath the mask of grandiosity and access his true feelings. Then, ultimately, he can learn to replace the harsh self-critique with self-compassion, which is where real healing takes place.

If your partner is a full-blown narcissist and doesn’t want to get help or work on it, this should be a deal breaker. If you’re married to a narcissist, realize that you can’t fix him. No matter how much you try, his actual healing is going to have to come from within. No amount of external shoring up will ever be enough. Don’t make fixing a narcissist your life’s work. You have a different journey, one that is more inspired than repairing your partner.

• If you’re dating someone you suspect is a narcissist, tread carefully. What makes a great date may not make a great mate.

• If the narcissist in your life is getting help, remember it may be two steps forward and one step back. Give yourself a deadline so that years don’t elapse, leaving you in a perpetually dysfunctional relationship.

• Although it is likely your narcissistic partner loves you in his own way and does give you something—for instance, he makes life exciting, he’s vivacious and flattering—in the end, his own limitations may prevent him from consistently giving you the love you need. It may be 10% his affirming you in exchange for 90% you affirming him.

C. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

If progress is being made, you need to take care of you. Shore yourself up with a strong support network. Make sure that you have close friends that you feel safe enough​ to share your truth—great girlfriends, a good therapist, a spiritual leader. Don’t screen the story; share it unfiltered. Speaking the truth is quite liberating.

• Learn to notice and take care of your needs, maybe for the first time.

• Set boundaries clearly, calmly, and firmly. Know where you begin and where he ends. Start small. It’s OK to not like the same movies. You don’t need to change your opinions to placate him. You may take flack for standing up for yourself. Don your invisible armor so that if he overreacts, you’re clear that it’s about him, not you.

• Work through your own anger to have empathy for the narcissist in your life. He never got what he needed, and his self-hatred is much greater than his self-love, even though it appears to be the opposite. Have massive amounts of empathy for yourself and compassion for your partner. And know that understanding him doesn’t have to mean staying in the relationship.

* Listen to your intuition, that deep place of knowing. You deserve to be happy, free, and at peace. You deserve safe and unconditional love!

WHAT’S YOUR REAL LOVE STORY?
When it comes to romance, listen to your head and your heart. In healthy partnerships, both vital organs are aligned. Good relationships free your true spirit. They allow you to exhale with ease into feeling safe and cherished. To quote one of my dearest friends, a good partnership is an “elevator.” It brings out your best self. It does not force you to bury parts of yourself. You want a partnership in which you can not only fall in love, but then stand and ultimately grow in love.

Now that is what I call happily ever after.

Robin Berman, MD, is an Associate Professor of Psychiatry at UCLA and author of “Permission to Parent: How to Raise Your Child with Love and Limits.”

CRITERIA FOR DIAGNOSING NARCISSITIC PERSONALITY DISORDER
Narcissism exists on a spectrum from a person who has a few traits to someone who meets the full criteria for a personality disorder. Full-fledged narcissism is a pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements).

Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.

Believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions).

Requires excessive admiration. (Maybe even a parade?)

Has a sense of entitlement (i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations).

Is interpersonally exploitative (i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends).

Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others.

Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her.

Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes.

~Dr. Robin Berman

Narcissist

Do you believe in energy?
I do.
Do you believe it can gather momentum?
You don’t? Oh, boy, I do!
What about those days when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and before you can say crap sandwich​, you stub your toe, the cat pukes on every flat surface in your apartment, the zipper breaks on your favorite pair of pants and you get a parking ticket in front of Starbucks?

THAT is what I mean by momentum.

Thankfully, not all days are bad and neither is momentum.

Energy is an equal opportunity force that can kick up the volume on positive stuff too. Don’t shake your head like that! What about those mornings when your hair decides to obey all the laws of physics​ and arranges itself on your head in a not-so-shitty way, you find ten bucks in an old pair of jeans, and just when it seems like things can’t get any better—you get a primo parking spot at Trader Joes (which practically takes an act of Congress) in the ten minute window you left yourself to shop.

But I’m no different than anyone else. I forget about momentum. That would mean I have to pay attention to my energy and steer it in the direction that feels better. Fuck, that sounds exhausting!

It’s so much easier to play the victim.
Ouch.

The other day I got a front row seat to some wicked energy momentum and it was so blatantly apparent it stopped me in my tracks. You expect it to be stealthy, sneaky, but sometimes it is so in-your-face you have no choice but to pay attention and try and take control of the wheel before your day or week goes completely off the rails.

Case in point:
STANDING IN THE BATHROOM.

He: I saw on Facebook that my buddy’s business is sponsoring a race car.

Me: You were on Facebook? Are pigs flying?

He: Ha, ha, very funny. I know, I’m anti-social media. Anyway, they’re sponsoring a race car and I never heard anything about it.

Me: Why would you?

He: (aghast) Because! I’m the car and motorcycle guru. I’m their go-to guy for anything with an internal combustion engine.

Me: (Yawn) Right. Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure it was just an oversight.

He: (unintelligible) Grumble, grumble, grumble.

LATER THAT NIGHT…

Me: What’s the matter?

He: Nothing.

REPEAT THAT INTERACTION AT LEAST TEN TIMES.

Me: Okay.

He: I went to see my buddies at their headquarters to ask them about the race car, and when I pulled up I saw my electrician’s truck in the parking lot, and lo and behold his guys were there doing a bunch of electrical work without my knowledge.

Me: Well…Did you ask…?

He: No.

Me: Why not?

He: Because…it was weird.

Me: I know, but I’m sure there was some kind of mistake. A new guy maybe?

He: How could there be? They all know I’m the one who arranges any work that’s done there.

Me: Hmmm…

He: And when I walked into their office they were talking to another pal of ours and they all stopped talking, like I was intruding. It felt weird.

Me: (Thinking ) Then did they all flip their hair, laugh diabolically, and walk off together to homeroom? (Said out loud) Maybe it was just your imagination? What could they be saying that they wouldn’t want you to hear?

He: I don’t know. Nothing. It was just so weird that my electricians were there…

Me: I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.

He: Right…

Me: What about the race car? Did you ask about that?

He: Oh, yeah, it just happened. They were really excited to tell me all about it.

Me: See. It was nothing.

He: Right…

Me: Somebody needs a hug.

He: Somebody needs a bottle of wine!

As he downed his first glassof wine like it was grape juice, I gingerly mentioned the fact that it looked suspiciously like his energy of they left me out of the loop from that morning had gotten a whole lot of momentum and was having its way with his emotions.

I could instantly remember doing the same thing a million times. Can’t you? It hurts. And as obvious as it is that the crappy reality we’re creating in our minds can be changed if we just take the time to see it—sadly, we are always the last to know.

“Think about it,” I said. “Out of the loop is the one thing that all of those situations have in common.” He yeah butted me for a while until he could see it too.

“I’m sure when you talk to your guys tomorrow there will be a perfectly simple explanation that will have nothing to do with being left out.

And as it turns out that’s exactly what happened.
His electrician called him first thing in the morning to ask about the billing (proving that he wasn’t going behind his back) and later that day he found out there was a new guy at the company who wasn’t read-in on the maintenance-chain-of-command.

Nothing was nefarious or personal.
It was all just a bunch of misunderstandings that were feeding on his energy.

Do you believe in energy?
I do.
Do you believe in momentum?
I most certainly do. I’ve seen it in action!

Carry on,
xox

​

Sexual Chemistry — “It’s hot. It’s groovy, it’s great! Everyone should have it!

Romantic Infatuation — “Seeing your reflection in your lover’s eye MAKES YOU TEAR UP!”

“True romantic infatuation is pregnant with melancholy.”

Oh, Jason, I don’t know…you may have a point.

I wrote about Sexual chemistry once: http://www.theobserversvoice.com/2015/01/flashback-friday-chemistry/

You guys let me know how you feel about chemistry and infatuation. It’ll just be between you and me…

Carry on,

xox

Let’s get real here. Valentines Day sucks. It just does.
Oh sure, when you’re in the beginning of a relationship it can be all hearts and flowers, but in my opinion, it is the pink-clad, chocolate covered ugly step-sister of New Year’s Eve. Neither rarely live up to our expectations.

That being said, for their own emotional survival, some single women take things into their own hands.

Amy Pohler for instance. She invented Galentine’s Day.

Galentine’s Day is a popular fictional holiday for women to celebrate with their girlfriends.  Created by Amy Poehler’s character, Leslie Knope on the NBC sitcom Parks and Recreation, the holiday takes place every year on Feb. 13 in celebration of female friendship.

I love that.

Once upon a time, I created a day too.

Except mine makes me shudder with shame. You be the judge. 

Here ya go…

I am not proud of what I’m about to reveal—but it’s the truth.

Once upon a time, I had the world by the balls. Or the tits. Both are equally painful if you think about it.

Anyhow, I had a job I loved, lots of friends and foreign travel. I ate and drank well. I had enough sex (although, do you really ever have enough sex? — Asking for a friend). Only one thing stuck in my craw and I was an A-number-one brat about it.

Thinking back on this chapter of my life, I can’t believe what a spoiled jerk I was. A serious boil on the ass of humanity.

Nevertheless, I still think the cause was a good one—I just went about it all wrong.

I was nearing my forties, terminally single, and childless by choice.

One night, tipsy on wine and inadequacy after attending yet another friend’s baby shower directly on the heels of Mother’s Day, I decided that there needed to be a National holiday to celebrate women like…well, me…who am I kidding? Just me.

I picked a day in September, because of where it sits on the calendar (I wasn’t a total asshole). I placed it directly after summer and just prior to the run-up to the holidays. I think it was September 20th.

After careful consideration, filled with equal parts entitlement and hubris, I gathered together my family and friends to decree that September 20th would heretofore be known as Spinster Auntie Day!

I wanted cake. Cupcakes to be exact. I wanted decorations. And gifts. I think I even registered somewhere. God help me.

Why my sister didn’t, at the very least, gag and tie me up until I decided to behave myself is beyond me. Anyway…

My feeling was this: I celebrated everyone — all the time.
Weddings and their showers, babies and their showers and birthdays. So many baby birthdays… I lost count. In your thirties, celebrating matrimony and childbirth essentially takes up most of your Saturdays and many of your Sundays. Society at large celebrates mommies and motherhood. And families. As fun as that can be—and it was fun—after a decade I felt like an outsider.

It was a club of which I was not a member. Cue the violins.

There was no day for me and the many women like me. (Insert hands on hips, whining and foot stomps here.)

The unmarried, childless women that all the other women turned to in times of joy and crisis.
The Auntie. In my case, The Spinster Auntie.

The diaper changing, stroller pushing, tote lugging, binkie washing, baby wranglers.

The ones who take worried midnight phone calls, do emergency 6 am pharmacy runs, and read Goodnight Moon over and over tens of thousands of times. We sit covered in drool or some unidentified sticky substance to watch Frozen or Toy Story or Cars until we want to gouge our eyes out while the mommies grab a quick shower, run an errand, or God willing, catch a nap.

We were regularly available because we were a part of that village, you know, the one that it takes to raise a kid.
And besides that, we had no real life.

At the time I knew the parents were heroic. No question about it. But I couldn’t help feeling like at times we were the unsung heroes. No one meant to overlook us. They were sleep deprived and just so fucking busy being full-time parents.

Overlooking is never intentional.

Now before you go and totally hate me (If you don’t already), don’t get me wrong. I loved my auntie duties. My time spent with my niece and nephew and the children of all of my friends are irreplaceable. Every boo-boo kiss, hand-hold, “I wuv you”, and baby-belly-laugh was pure joy to me and I wouldn’t have missed it. I felt lucky to be a member of the inside circle.

I just wanted a day. And cake. Don’t forget about the cake.

I don’t remember if we ever celebrated Spinster Auntie Day more than once. Probably not. I’m certain I went on with my life, too ashamed to bring it up again. I think if asked my sister, with a shudder, could remember.

Come to find out I was not alone in my unadulterated shamelessness. In 2009, someone actually got a National Aunt and Uncle Day added to the calendar (I like my title better), but I never heard about it because by that time I was married and had, at long last, finally gotten over myself.

Listen, loves, the point here (if there is one), is this: Is there an unsung hero, an Auntie or Uncle either by birth or just their proximity, around you now? Please, please, will you say thank you and buy them a cupcake? From me?

Carry on,
xox