A Poem & Appreciation for my Readers: Blogging is GOOD for your Narcissism

Sheldon Peck, artist

We visited my parents over the weekend, always a catalyst for rumination on the three-hour drive home.

Our visits frequently include a ten-year review: my ex-husband leaving the family; the financial and emotional losses of infidelity and divorce; the grief we suffer because in spite of my ex's paranoid perceptions, he was my siblings' brother, my parents' son. All of us lost someone we loved and he wasn't easy to love, believe me. He was a lot easier on the eyes I must confess, than most of us. We miss his face in our family portraits.

My mother retrieved two file folders she'd kept during my high school and college years. Hand-written letters, scribbled poems, creative essays with big fat A's circled on the header. My daughter eagerly scanned the poetry to see what her mother had written when I was too-young-to-be-self-conscious. I didn't even know I had a subconscious. Or an unconscious, id and ego, much less an arsenal of defenses. My daughter is much more educated than I; the poetry she writes is worthy of serious contemplation. She read literary masterpieces in high school and my principle excused me from English to teach reading to first graders. Yea, that was the "good ol' days" when women were destined for housewifization, not publication. 

Anyway, we were sitting at the table, my mother, daughter and I when my daughter read this gawdawful eye-rolling poem about the wife I wanted to be one day. If anyone else has suffered the unveiling of your horrific naivety and patriarchal colonization, please hold my hand. I need company. It took every ounce of my hard-earned self-esteem not to slam my face in the tabletop. 

If you wanna know how much increased narcissism has helped women like myself, read that poem and then this blog. The disparity in self-ownership suggests something very interesting. I think it suggests that some women (especially women in traditional cultures) need to increase their individuality, their right to autonomy, their sense of entitlement and "havingness". Just because our score is low on the NPI (Narcissistic Personality Inventory), doesn't mean we're living to our fullest potential as human beings holding up half the sky with one hand and a sandwich platter with the other. Narcissism can be a good thing is my point. You don't develop healthy narcissism without risk is another point. You have to risk doing things friends & family might not agree with (like writing a blog), risk being criticized, risk being rejected. Nothing ended my marriage faster than claiming my right to exist on my own terms, within bounds of course 'cuz a conscientious woman will always keep her entitlements within reason. My right to have an opinion that differed from my husband's led to a midlife divorce, although that wasn't a conscious awareness on my part. The amazing thing about narcissistic husbands is that you won't know they aren't in full support of your spiritual and psychological growth until they find someone else. And then by golly, you realize how lucky you were that you didn't know how much he hated your guts since you might have would have tempered or even silenced that big fat opinion you need to have! 

Well once again, I'm typing more than intended before getting to my initial reason for writing this post: my readers. Thank you, thank you so much! As we talked about my transition from a naive and idealistic young woman to a naive and idealistic older woman, I KNOW without a doubt that the people reading my writings have Changed My Life for the better. We can only go so far on our own. We need people to encourage us, validate and support us, read us, inspire, question and accept us. It's temptingly easy to start feeling better and abandon recovery work, watching movies on iPhones instead of writing. That's because it's hard work putting feelings and thoughts into words and risking ridicule and criticism when we publish those words. Facing fear makes us grow and taking risks make us heal in ways we simply can't in the family living room. I can list screennames as long as a day without bread, of the people who inspired me to stand up for myself, to look at myself, to like myself. Thank you.

I am also grateful to my brilliant daughter who said after reading my tender soliloquy, "Every woman has the right to be idealistic and even naive, Mom. It's beautiful. But a man does not have the right to appropriate her idealism to serve himself."  Yea, what she said. 

Yesterday's stats referred to a website that recommended my blog (!) as a great website, albeit l-o-n-g. My writing is l-o-n-g and maybe my next challenge is learning to say a lot in a little, since most people won't read daunting entries such as mine-----another reason why I LOVE my readers each and every one of you. I am a better woman because you hold me accountable while allowing me to change and grow, to be myself. During the past decade, I've been bitter, cynical, too opinionated, too wishy-washy, too forgiving, not aggressive enough. I've been mean and spiteful, kind and rightful, tender and harsh intermittently. And still, my WoNderful readers have accepted me as an older woman rendered almost invisible in our narcissistic culture. You have made me feel that despite everything that happened because I was and continue to be idealistic, you still find something worthy in my experiences, valuable in my writing. Thank you. I am a lucky woman and I know it's because my interlocutors have taken the time to read and comment on my work. Thank you.

And now as promised: one of my high school masterpieces. It's not the poem you're dying to read, admit it. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of you, but my ego isn't yet strong enough to publish Ode to My Future Husband. This poem says a lot in a little, though.

"Poetry, schmoetry," that's what I say.

I can write poetry any ol' day.

It ain't that hard, all you have to do

is match up a line with a word or two.

My teacher says "write!" and I just laugh.

She thinks I work but I don't hafta 

'cuz I can write poetry any ol' day.

If those doggone words don't get in the way.

  

Love to all,

CZ