Is it a little narcissistic to expect a narcissist to behave differently?

I have a friend who was diagnosed with narcissism. (thanks Dr. Goyl). No it wasn't my hairdresser Jim who abruptly cut off our 10 year hair relationship because I was late one too many times. I'm over that, not really all that bitter anymore. No, this was a different relationship, a long term one, and one that I'm pretty much over. The difference is, I'm still a little bitter. But last week, I had an experience which may, just may, reduce the bitterness. If it was only as easy as taking an antacid, I'd have taken it years ago, but unfortunately it seems to come in waves of awareness to let the bitterness die back.

Again, it was a conversation with Dr. Goyl. (I should probably pay this girl). I was upset over something that had happened one evening, and it had made me sort of obsessively distraught. I couldn't get out of my head how seemingly thoughtless the incident was (and no, that particular incident will not be revealed here - you would only think me petty and paranoid) and while I was trying to see it as insignificant and harmless, I kept coming back around to what was he thinking, and what a jerk for doing this to me. And yet, it didn't ruin my night. I enjoyed what I was doing, I had a positive exchange with lots of people and was completely glad I was there. On the drive home, however, the obsessively angry and stunned internal dialogue returned. If it hadn't been so late, I'd have called my sister in Michigan to vent and fan the flames, and then get some consolation in my long suffering woe is me quagmire. Alas, it was late and I didn't want to wake her. And I also knew how she would start before commiserating, and I wasn't in the mood for the running "why are you surprised? He always does this." montage of response. But mainly because it was midnight for her.

So, Dr. Goyl. I got her on the phone, and while navigating my way home, I explained to her what happened. I hadn't really gotten too far, or into the sympathetic tone in her voice, when a new piece raised up. "It's not about you" she said. I thought I agreed, and said "I know." But really continued with "how could he be so thoughtless, and, what must he think of me that he would have done this". And she said again, "it's not about you." And, as though sirens were blaring and a parade of fire trucks was surrounding me in a motorcade, I mentally stopped by the side of the road, and considered, "it isn't, is it!" I suddenly realized fully, that it wasn't a behavior meant to make me look bad, but rather to make him look good. All these years of thinking things were intentionally meant to put me in a bad light, or upset me, or punish me, were not the main point. My getting hurt may have been a bonus, but really, the behaviors, the attitudes, the genesis for the thoughtlessness were really about him.

Here's an example I thought of later which further crystalizes the point. We were on vacation (ok, is it clear by now who I'm talking about?) many, many years ago. I would say during the good times. I was sitting outside a little jewelry store when I overheard him giving advice to his friend (who most likely didn't need it, but that's for another blog on arrogance. I'll get to it eventually). He said (and after 15 years, I paraphrase), "buy her some earrings. It makes you look so good. Little gifts get you really far." I looked at the "gift" bracelet I was wearing, and thought the silver looked a little more grey. Now at the time, I of course knew what a narcissistic thing that was to say, and how the gift wasn't really about me, but I'd never really connected it the same way as I did this night. The objectionable behavior wasn't really about me. It annoyed me and upset me, but it was made to make him look good.

Without recounting all the various slights I've felt over the years, or the numbers of times I've felt singled out for thoughtlessness, I've never put the element of narcissism on my part into the equation. It's really not about me. It's just how he goes about things in the world. We're all narcissists to a point. Many of us blend it with giving, many of us outgrow it (not really counting myself in this one) and most of us eventually shed 75-100% of it in our natural maturity, but some, keep it as a primary modality. That doesn't make it easier to receive, but at least, it helps to realize more fully, "It's not really about me."

Good night good people. don't forget this one. usually I think you should, but maybe not this time.

A Parent's Bat Mitzvah speech

Don't know why, but I was feeling nostalgic and thought I'd revisit this speech from a happy day in my life. My words for Alice, who used to be Isak.

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other’s welcome

I chose this poem (from a book, I wish I could find and tell you it’s author)because it sings to me of celebration of who you are. And as our clergy informed me, that’s really why we’re here today. To celebrate who you are now and who you are as a fluid being, ever growing, evolving, learning and renewing. Life is an ongoing process of self acceptance. This doesn’t mean complacency, it doesn’t mean laziness, it doesn’t mean ignorance as bliss. It simply means that you develop a faith in your strength, that you grow a belief in the sincerity of your efforts, that you have a dedication to succeed at those things you set forth to accomplish. I know all of those things are and will be true of you.

Along the way, there will be times of questioning and doubt, but I urge you to know that those are natural and necessary. Just as literature must have conflict for the resolutions to be satisfying, and as the light in nature is made more brilliant by the contrasting shadows, such is life. Such is growth and ongoing happiness. to celebrate your triumphs, acknowledge your struggles, learn from all these experiences and be stronger, wiser, kinder and more accepting along the way. this might be harder than it seems. . . but we are all here to help you on your way.

So, who is this girl we celebrate today?

Isak is a kind, giving, trusting, loyal friend. She’s always been outgoing, making friends easily wherever she is, at school, on vacations, in line at Baskin robbins. When she was in her second year of preschool, she reached out to one of the new kids, and before we knew it, they were fast and furious friends. It turned out they were kindred spirits, and even though the family moved away in 2nd grade, through the wonders of the internet, and the loyalty and strong, strong, connection that exists between them, neither time or distance has altered that friendship. It is so incredible that that friend, Jemma and her Mom and sister, came all the way down from Canada to share in this happy milestone.

Once she has gifted someone with friendship, that bond is lasting. We are here today celebrating with friends from not just preschool, but kindergarten, elementary school and the three middle schools Isak has attended over the last two years. Especially wonderful is that she just started attending her new school in January, and yet, all of her classmates are here today to lend support and to join in the celebration.

Haiku

Today I am a woman, tomorrow I return to the 7th grade .

And although her name, isak means one who laughs in Hebrew, this girl is a serious learner. She is a dedicated student, a deep thinker and infinitely curious quester. (I made that word up) . She brings her imagination, creativity and intelligence to all her endeavors. I have every confidence in her abilities in whatever she applies herself to, whether that be creative writing, or violin, or gymnastics, or drama, or comic strip drawing, or ice skating, or marine biology. And I know that she will be there for me to correct my grammar. Thanks.

I hope that Isak and Milly and I will continue our intense involvement with Kehillat Israel when this proud moment is through. (after a very appropriate resting, breathing period Isak). When we first moved to the Palisades, I didn’t pick this congregation because it was Reconstructionist, but because I wanted us to have a warm, spiritual community to share with our neighbors. What I found however, aside from being a melting pot of menches, was an openness of thought, an invitation to individually explore one’s spirituality and a commitment to community service. It was also the first sect to allow, no, to invite women to particip[ate in all rituals. The founders’ daughter was the first to be Bat Mitzvah’d in 1922, and I’m so proud to say that Isak is the first girl in our family to be Bat Mitzvah’d. Our own Reconstructionist pioneer.

In closing my darling, I give you my ongoing faith and trust, my admiration for the upstanding girl you are, my love forever, my ear and patience, and my pledge to be there for you always, and treasure all of our shared joy, sorrow, & discoveries. I will commiserate in your struggles and I will revel in all your triumphs .

I love you.

Small Town

We have a friend staying with us this weekend, Paul, a friend of Dan's from San Francisco. He arrived this afternoon. We walked into town to have dinner at the local health food brasserie. I love that when I go there, I'm sure to see someone I know. Sure enough, there sat Gregg and his daughter Megan. Megan is one of Milly's little friends and the Dad is a friend of another friend of mine. And, no less heartwarming was seeing the actress from way back on Saturday Night Live, although I can't think of her name, I remember she was funnnnnnnny. I see her all around town. She's sweet, but way, way peculiar. She takes her groceries out of the store in her cart, unbagged, so that she can bag them the way she likes to in the trunk of her car. I've heard her explain this.

After dinner we stopped at Ralphs to get some things that Paul might want to have on hand. Breakfasty things, snacks, the like. So, we're in the ice cream aisle, (who doesn't like ice cream although I think this was for us, not for him per se) and I ask him what else he'd like to have. He says lactaid milk is what he usually drinks. I however heard lactated milk and stopped listening and started thinking "that can' t be what he said". Being me, I verbalize that to Paul and Dan just so we can all have a chuckle. And we pantomime breast feeding, sort of, and mumble little lactating jokes. I like stupid humor. So we're chuckling, giggling even, when the properly dressed Palisadian matron standing 3 feet away, quips, "now that would be a good hostess".. We ROTFL. I'm laughing all the way until we hit the coffee section.

The next adventure consists of watching Dan agonize over getting some decaf coffee which cost $9.88 for 12 ounces, and grumbling that the $9.00 a pound coffee didn't come in decaf. And yet I didn't want to interrupt his process, because I want to support him in his quest to give up his afternoon coffee addiction, so I wanted to make sure he was very happy with his choice of decaf for the afternoons to ensure that he doesn't slip and resume his afternoon coffee addiction.

As I type this, I can hear the high school football team marching band out my back window.

Now, that's the small town I live in. Celebrities at the health food restaurant, witty women in the ice cream aisles, and my darling choosing decaf at the coffee end cap.

Good night good people.

Judema

Sometimes it's Simple

Things can seem so complicated. And then it turns out to be a simple turn of the valve.

I wrote last week about my adventure with lice. That turns out to be a tad complicated what with all the washing, combing, sterilizing, rechecking, braiding, etc. But nothing a simple working washing machine can't fix. Turns out the my brand new washer, which seemed to be malfunctioning in it's very first cycle had a simple fix. The cold water valve was shut off, meaning the rinse cycle couldn't start, meaning the spin cycle couldn't go, meaning the clothes were just sitting in limbo. A simple turn of the valve and voila, washer working.

Life lesson. Sometimes it's as simple as turning a valve. I've been taking a parenting class of late. Actually it is a bit late - my kids, after all, are 16 & 10. I wish I'd known about this class sooner. But hey, I didn't. The biggest lesson I've learned from this class has turned out to be nearly miraculous and nearly as simple as turning the valve. Reward positive behavior, ignore negative behavior. Of course there are details to work out. Negative behavior does not include hitting, breaking things or disobeying. But it does include things like arguing, screeching protests, begging, lollygagging and general obnoxiousness. I'd heard for some time that I should reward positive behavior, but I was missing a link. Of course I knew to reward positive behavior, ie, praise cooperation, praise sibling nonrivalries, reward good school work and doing chores cheerfully. What had been missing before was what to do with all the annoying stuff. It seemed those needed to be dealt with, punished even. Turns out my generation is over-explaining everything. Mommy can I have some cookies before dinner? No honey. Please Mom, I'm so hungry. No, it's too close to dinner, and you'll spoil your appetite. But Mom, I'm hungry, I didn't have lunch. Are you going to make me starve? Honey, just hold on, we'll be having dinner in a half hour. Mom, I'm hungry now! STOP. The first no was all that was needed. Truth is, she knows all the rest. No explanation needed. All the begging, logical explanation, guilt tripping is just an engagement with me for attention. In my effort to try and rationally explain why cookies before dinner isn't a good idea, I might as well have gone to the park and pushed her in the swings. Same degree of attention from me. The art of ignoring is new to me, and surprisingly powerful and effective. I never thought I'd earn "good parent" points by ignorning. We've had far fewer Momchild war of words since learning that simple trick. And of course, now it seems sooooooo obvious. A simple turn of the valve. In this case, it's the Mom attention valve, OFF.

I still turn it on though when little Missy thanks me for getting her a snack at the appropriate time.

Good bye good people.

Thanks for reading. (see, I'm praising your good behavior!)

Are lice lousy?

Let's talk about lice. What are the common preconceptions about the little buggers. And let's demystify or elucidate them at the same time:

1. Dirty little children from poor and unkempt houses get them and spread them.

Wrong. Truth is, lice don't really like dirty hair as much as clean hair. A bit harder for them to get to the scalp where their nourishment is. They don't eat the dirt or grease in the hair. They also need the warmth and humidity of the head.

2. If you find out your kid has them, they must have gotten them from their last playdate.

It's hard to know when your child got them. Ways not to catch them include:

Being near someone with lice. Lice don't jump.

Swimming with someone with lice. Lice don't swim. They can withstand getting wet, but they won't swim over to your child.

The truth is, there has to be head to head contact for the lice to get onto your child. Using a towel that that lousy little kid used first could do it. Or, sharing a hairbrush, or hat could do it. And, it can take awhile (could be days, could be as much as a week or two) for your child to start scratching their head (the TELLTALE) sign that they might have them.

LICE CAN'T LIVE MORE THAN 2 DAYS ON ANYTHING LIKE PILLOWS OR SHEETS, OR PILLOWCASES without a human host.

3. Kids have to be nit free to be safe to be in contact with other humanoids.

I know schools have adopted a nit free policy, but like all things bureaucratic, (man that word is hard to spell), they over-react. Nits are usually dead, dead, dead after having been washed with the special shampoo that kills the bugs. Some microscopic babies may have escaped death, but with the proper treatment and combing, it's all taken care of.

There really is no reason for anyone to freak out about lice. I liken it to my daughter coming home with cuts on her knees or paint all over her t-shirt. She had a good time, and she threw caution to the wind and got into it. I understand why some people get all atwitter, as they are annoying to deal with (especially if you child has thick or very curly hair), but they also seem an unavoidable part of childhood. And there is the nuisance factor of having to wash sheets, clothes, brushes etc in hot water. But really, come on. Why would that be any worse than a kid who plays in the mud frequently? Life's messy, clean it up.

And, it's not like everyone has the situation I had last weekend where we discovered an infestation at 8:30 am, (after an alerting call from a friend who also had them), did the shampooing, combing, denitting, using a washing machine that was known to be broken, ie, leaking, cleaning and reconstructing the bedroom, putting the various pillows in a plastic garbage bag just to be safe, soaking combs we used to delouse in 140 degree water, reconstruct the bedroom, and then hosting a bunch of the "lousy" kids friends by noon. And having to explain the situation to each of those kids' Moms with patience, and wondering if they'd panic and withdraw their child from the party. That's what's worse. When the other parents make a bigger deal about it then it needs to be.

As with so many things in life, if you really think about it, Knowledge is Power, and the Truth Will set you free. Or that other truism, there's no accounting for prejudice.

Shit, my head itches.

Good bye Good people.

This is it.

I almost posted just the title. Me and keyboards!

But better I should elaborate. Just because I want to.

Depending on how you read that phrase, "This is it", it could sound either definitive and bland, or positively explosive and indicative of celebration. I mean it as the latter. You could put music behind it. And it takes off from my last post. So, let's segue, shall we?

Tonight I was walking home from Kay and Dave's with my kids and I really stopped to smell the roses. Does it get any better? This IS the modern day Donna Reed show I was yearning for.

Milly and I picked up AnnaLeah (my "new" daughter) who has just returned from Scotland and brought her home. Whereupon, A~L and the ecstatically surprised Alice took off for a photo shoot at Pali High. 15 minutes later Sunny dropped Jake off to hang out and sleep over. She was headed to a tennis exhibition. Dan came home and at A~L's request we walked into town for dinner. I used to walk to town a lot with the kids to have dinner. I like it. We had a great dinner. Jake and Milly had a table to themselves. The 4 of us had such a great time, talking, laughing, being together. Then we walked home, 2 by 2 by 2. And it struck me what a great and fabulous life this is. This is all I ever wanted. This is so great to have and enjoy.

Good night good people.

D I V O R C E

I guess it's because I grew up in the Donna Reed era. I believed in everything being forever. After all, my parents were married forever. We lived in the same house forever. My Dad had the same job forever. You know, it followed. So, when I got married, I just assumed it would be forever. And I was older when I got married, a ripe old 36. Presumably I knew what I was doing. While I won't go into the marriage or the relationship (yet), that's for another blog, somewhere down the line, I realized that this wasn't how I wanted to live my life, FOREVER. It wasn't the marriage I'd always hoped for. Yet, I maintained a sense of duty, of obligation, of commitment largely, as cliche as it sounds, for the children.

But it wasn't up to me. My husband left me. My initial reaction was absolute PANIC. I had a panic attack. Security, gone. Certainty, gone. Family, gone. Stability, gone. As I concluded later, I was shocked, but not surprised. For the last 5 years of my marriage, I guess I really knew that he'd leave. I was walking on eggshells. So, finally the eggshell had cracked.

My friends rallied. They listened, they comforted, they supported. Everyone assured me that I would be fine, in fact I'd be better than I'd ever been, happier. Upon hearing my fears of being a single parent, my sister said, "but Judy, you already are a single parent." A light went off. I really had been living the single life for years. And, it was fine.

A new feeling took the place of the panic. Relief. And an almost joyful anticipation. I remember walking around my house thinking about all the things that would be easier if I didn't have someone questioning me, criticizing me, second guessing me, and most of all, making me doubt myself at all turns. I made lists of all the ways in which things would be better.

I came to realize that my preconceived notions of divorce were really wrong. That it meant failure. That it would be the worst possible outcome for my children. A bad marriage SHOULD NOT BE FOREVER. Why punish everyone? It wasn't that we'd made a wrong choice from the beginning. My two amazing children are the proof of that. Rather that, somewhere along the way, our paths couldn't merge. As to who diverged from the marriage path is really not relevant. But diverge they did. So my childish notions of forever needed updating. Flexibility is more adaptive. Divorce needed a new attitude, one in which stigma isn't attached. That takes some real mental wrangling, but I'm living proof that sometimes it's the most thoughtful, psychologically healthy outcome.

And the really good news is, it only took me about 5 days for the clarity to come.

And, the rest is a story for another time.

Good day good people.

I promise a funnier blog next time.