I just had a friend ask whether or not I write in the morning or night. I said it depends… and what I write is different from morning to night. Today, for instance, I was working on a piece about friendships gone wrong, along the line of cancerous friendships, from benign to malignant. It felt a little extreme, though. I did come up with a great picture- one I felt reflected the topic.
Then I spent a lot of time researching the Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It was a perfect evolution, having spent the morning ruminating about malignant friendships. I learned a tremendous amount but couldn’t quite figure out how to write about me and write about narcissism at the same time.
Then, I am afraid of getting sued. But it begs the question, would a narcissist see themselves in the description of narcissism? If I described a relationship, in depth, that I had with someone I believe has NPD, would they see themselves? Because everything has to be about them. Everything is about them. And yet it would not be complimentary, contrary to their belief about themselves as above everyone else.
Food for thought. Not sure I want to risk being sued but life is short, as someone responding to one of my blogs recently wrote me. Might as well go for the gusto.
But as I go through the day, I start to mellow, start to find more humor in the moment. Probably because I pick up my kids at 3:00pm and they have a way of putting the world in perspective. I find myself no longer furious but laughing. Instead of being incredibly intense, I poke fun at myself. Both sides are important.
Perhaps if I wrote at 4pm, I’d find more gray. More blurry edges.
I listen to Ben and Jake fight in the other room about the same things they always fight about.
JAKE, just stop LOOKING at me, OKAY?
I’m not doing anything… Jake replies while sitting dangerously close, tilting his face up towards Ben. The countdown commences. Five, four, three…
OW! MOM! Ben just hit me for NO REASON.
Yuh. I think I want a referee shirt and blow the whistle. Offsetting personal penalties. Fifteen yards for unnecessary roughness. Fifteen yards for unsportsmanlike like conduct. Everyone, TO YOUR ROOM.
Except Zachary, ever the middle child, he is sitting with a book. Innocent. I look over to him and he shrugs his shoulders and goes back to his book. Don’t get me wrong, he gets in trouble, too. He’s just very sneaky about it.
A friend calls and asks me to pick up her kids. Traffic is bad. Help! I get her kids, who are at the school just a block away. Yo, Dude, they say to me. Peace sign flashed. I flash one back.
Yo, Dudes. Let’s go. I love taking care of other people’s kids. I get the freedom to not be a parent. I can be fun. Playful. I become a different kind of role model. One that allows expression and supports individuality. A cheerleader, not the police. I always wanted to be a cheerleader. Okay, honestly? I always wanted to sleep with a cheerleader.
When they get here, a game of Kill the Carrier commences. Not very PC, but a lot of fun. Eyes are bright. Dirt is everywhere. Later, pizza consumed. And, yeah, there I am with the milk again.
My life comes full circle in a single day. I am angry and full of myself in the morning. Raging against the indignities not only I faced, but so many people faced. The world revolves around my hurt. I slowly start to move away, realizing my complicity in the equation. Ultimately, my kids bring me back to the moment, back to the present.
I’m off to tuck in three boys. Clean from baths, they all smell fresh from the soap. I will answer Jake’s question about how electricity went from the lightening bolt to the key. Zachary will allow, in a private moment his buddies cannot see, a big hug and kiss. Ben will want me to sit, for a long time and talk about which singer is in the top ten this week and will they remain there. I’ll stroke their heads. Jake still wants me to sing to him. The older boys simply want my presence, quietly, at their bedside.
It is the end of the day. My work is almost done. I’ve gone full circle.