Outakes of Flywheel: My Narcissist's Cameo

It left me dumbstruck. In a part of the DVD that was supposed to be light-hearted and funny, There...He... Was. I wasn't ready for it. Perhaps that's why I can't get rid of the uneasy feeling it gave me.

Of course, it wasn't really, physically, my narcissist. But, it was him in spirit. A scene is cut. The director enters from off screen. A child, maybe seven to nine years-old, holds a boom microphone at least twice as long as she is tall. With obvious false severity, he "reprimands" the girl for her handling of the mic. Beyond being part of an outtake, it's clear that he's just goofing around and teasing the girl.

When I was that girl, it wasn't teasing. Curse words were involved. Gritted teeth were involved. And, I was afraid. It didn't happen on a movie set. It happened in our garage, or basement, or backyard, or barn, or kitchen, or somewhere private where only family was present. To me, the outtake wasn't funny. It was sad and scary.

It took me a few days to wrap my mind around the reason for my inability to shake thoughts about the scene. It was the first time I'd viewed such an incident from that angle, from the outside looking in. It was like watching myself. Not only did it leave me uncomfortable, it also left me with some hard questions, all of which boil down to: is that sort of behaviour wrong?

Had the director in the movie been serious, rather than goofing around, then I can easily say yes. Yet, I can't see the whole issue as that cut-and-dry. For whatever reason, it doesn't help to put some other child in my place. Because, let's face it, any situation is much more complicated than what's happening at the moment. There's a back story, a history. But that line of reasoning comes much too close to rationalization of bad behaviour, situational ethics, and "a certain moral flexibility"(1).

So, I find myself uncomfortable with either a 'yes', 'no', or even 'it depends'. I'm stuck. Ironically that's the same position in which I found myself as that little girl facing my narcissist's anger. It's disconcerting.



(1)Grosse Pointe Blank movie

God Works in Mysterious Ways!

Today, one of the children decided to listen to Focus on the Family's audio production of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. I hadn't listened to it since I'd heard of NPD. It has new meaning to me now.

I understand that Dickens' wrote the story as an allegory. It tells the well known story of Scrooge ; it also tells the story of a culture losing the value of human life. It would be hard to argue that there's lots of narcissism involved in both stories. Is it safe to describe Scrooge as a narcissist?

At university, one of my literature professors made an interesting observation: in a good piece of literature, a character never does anything that is not in some way foreshadowed. In theatre one might say that the character would always behave "in character". I believe this is true in real life also. It's why some people can read others so well. People's behaviour should never really surprise us.

So what of Scrooge, the narcissist, making such a radical turn around with his life? Is it the remembrance of the loving kindness of his sister that ultimately softens him? Perhaps. Might it be remembering his first employer and the way he lived his life? Maybe. Could it be the knowledge that despite his nastiness, his employee and his nephew still loved him? Possibly. What of the people who so callously stole the dead man's possessions? I think not. The same Scrooge who wouldn't sign Marley's death certificate until after the close of business would think nothing of the living appropriating the material possessions of the dead.

So what's the point? While not ignoring the fact that Scrooge is fictional, what changed Scrooge's life with, of course, the help of the spirits, was love. It was love, even in the face of nastiness and cruelty. Now, to be sure, the people who purposefully engaged Scrooge the narcissist and treated him with love were people who had the ability to be secure in themselves with a support system to help anchor them. In the end, their relationships mattered.

As an ACON, I may not be in the position to engage a narcissist, but I'm glad there are people who can. I watched people like that engage my father. I have no idea how the Holy Spirit dealt with my father, but I'd like to think that the seeds planted and watered by those godly people who put themselves in the path of a narcissist could have bore fruit. I'm glad, too, that I can have the same hope for my culture.

Pollock

Movie Spoiler Warning!

Finally, after several years wait, last evening I watched Pollock. Starring Ed Harris, Pollock tells the story of the life of Jackson Pollock, the well-known artist.

The movie didn't disappoint. It didn't hurt that I enjoy Ed Harris' work, and Pollock's even more. Whenever the opportunity presents itself, I make a beeline for a Pollock.

I did find Pollock disturbing, though. It wasn't that the movie was dark, or that I had quite a few problems understanding the dialogue, or that the artist's life was a troubled one. The first was appropriate, the second annoying but workable and the third I already knew from previous study. The disturbing part was Harris' portrayal of Pollock. It was......I hesitate to say it, but it was familiar.

I'm tempted to say that Pollock was a disturbed man and write it off right there, but I don't know that that does it justice.

In the movie, Pollock's family, especially his mother, were all disturbing in their own rights. The mother seemed entirely oblivious to Jackson, whether it be his failures or his successes.

The more I contemplate the movie, the more disturbing it gets. From Pollock's girlfriend, and later, wife Lee Krasner's seeming inability to talk about anything other than Jackson or his success, to his mother's ambivalence, to Pollock's entire focus on HIS art, to nearly every other person around him with their own disturbing character traits, the movie is almost a study in dysfunction.

On purpose I'm ignoring the cliche of the tragic artist figure. That's not the point for me. It was the way I cringed when Krasner read Pollock an art critic's review, or the way I expected Pollock to grab the turkey carving implements and become violent. It was the display of entirely inappropriate behaviour that didn't make the perpetrator a complete pariah. It was the overturning of the dinner table, and the reaction from those seated. It was the mother at the dinner table peacefully eating whilst ignoring her youngest son, who was sitting next to her, having a break down.

It was Pollock adjusting the radio to his pleasure, entirely irrespective to the wishes of anyone else. That really is it. That's the nutshell. The core.

Narcissist at the Movies

My kids and I watched Fiddler on the Roof yesterday. It's one of my favourites. I'll be humming and singing selections from it for days.

I don't remember when I first watched Fiddler on the Roof, but I do remember the first time I watched other movies. Like my first James Bond flick in a theatre. I was 7. Much of it frightened me. It wasn't until later Bond movies that other parts made me intensely uncomfortable.

It shouldn't be surprising that my n father would have no idea that it was inappropriate. Just like he had no idea that it was inappropriate to pose his then 5 year-old daughter nude with a Playboy magazine.

What about The Other Parent?

I'm not trying to rake anyone over coals, but how does the other parent stand by and put up with this sort of stuff? I know just how nasty the narcissist is, and just how extreme their rage and manipulation can be, but.....isn't there a line somewhere? Or is the ability of the narcissist to pour on the charm, or skillfully apply the invalidation just too much? Interacting with a narcissist can definitely be crazy-making.

What is it that allows the narcissist to get away with it?

To Grandmother's House We Go

Narcissistic grandparents. That's an oxymoron, right? I wish.

The first time my mother watched my children was a month after my father died. My father hated children so even had she wanted to watch them, it simply wasn't a possibility. They were 2 and 4 years old. She actually offered to watch them. It was only for a few hours while I went out to dinner. On returning I find out that she allowed them to watch a movie I specifically told her I didn't want them to see. She explained that they saw the video case so she *had* to let them see it. Not wanting to make a scene in front of my children, I mumbled an "uh-huh" and said my good-byes. Of course, she couldn't let it go at that. She followed us outside and made a big show of telling the children that I was unhappy with Grammy because she had let them watch the movie. It was the perfect end of me ever leaving the children with her.

My father, on the other hand, didn't bother to put on the allusion that he was their grandfather. He talked to the children only when reminded to say goodbye. He picked each child up once on the prompting of someone else. He made absolutely no attempt to have anything resembling a relationship with them. They were of no value to him. They only served to take the attention away from him or to annoy him by making noise. He literally sulked in a corner when we combined the celebration of one child's birthday with his.

Whenever I hear a grandparent lovingly describe spending time with their grandchild I can't keep my eyes dry. A few Sunday's ago, our pastor talked about a grandchild due not long in the future. He spoke of loving the baby, of holding the precious baby in his arms and getting to know the child, of watching the child grow and develop. What a wonderful gift for a child to have. I can't help but feel sad that my children don't have that same blessing.