Being obsessive-compulsive has its advantages, the most important of which is the fact that I NEVER EVER overspend. Although I am quite impulsive by nature and tend to follow my emotions of the moment to make decisions, I am extremely self-restrained when it comes to money.
Only once in a blue moon do I make the kind of impulsive buys that if done consistently would ruin me financially. The $300 iPod I bought in a Border’s store a couple of years ago because I suddenly realized that everyone but me had iPods was one of the few times in my life when I made an extravagant impulsive purchase. (My next big impulsive purchase will probably be that LCD TV I’ve been coveting for so long, but still can’t afford to buy – I cringe nervously at the thought of the financial mess I’d be in if I let my irresponsible half talk push me into this one.)
No, all in all I am a financially responsible individual thanks to my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. While the ever so competitive narcissistic part of me makes me envy everybody and covet everything everyone else has that I know I can’t have, the fierce obsessive-compulsive part of me wears the pants around the house and makes damn sure she always has the last say when money at stake. I can hear her shouting loud and clear: “I don’t care if you want people to look at you and think you’re hot; you are NOT getting those $100 highlights in your hair, missy!”
Money: Obsessive Compulsiveness Rules November 18, 2007
The Quest for Beauty November 8, 2007
Six years ago, I was what people considered stunning. My looks (not to mention my dancing) made me popular in the dance circle I associated with. Back then I was young, I was thin, I was fit, I was beautiful, I was stylish, I was hip. Admired by many, I stood in the circle’s limelight and I loved every minute of it.
Fast forward to three years later when I began my gradual descent into fugliness and nothingness. I no longer belonged to a circle in which potential admirers were to be had; hence the need to impress was gone and with it went the motivation to look good. Feeling worthless, I sunk into a spiraling depression and stopped taking care of myself. Why bother, I thought? No one cares what I look like.
I couldn’t go back to the dancing circle because I had been away from it much too long. All this time my peers had been toiling away on their dancing. If I returned, I knew they would be at a far higher level of dancing than I was. I couldn’t take the humiliation associated with being of a lower status, so I never dared show my face to them again.
The more unattractive I became, the more difficult it was to look at myself in the mirror. It hurt to think back to the glory and the beauty of my lost youth. There I was at age 27, already old, fat, ugly, pathetic, and undesirable. I was both disgusted and angry with myself for reaching such lows, but I was too depressed and hopeless to dig myself out of my self-inflicted misery.
Last mid-August I broke up with my boyfriend of nearly three years. Though I spent a month grieving over him, I recovered relatively quickly. Then three weeks ago, out of the blue, I made the decision to turn my life around and get my looks back. I thought that if I were pretty again, maybe people would notice me and think that I was pretty. Determined to change the public opinion of me (with the hope that it would raise my self-esteem), I embarked on a quest to lose weight, get fit, and look my absolute best.
Since then I’ve made leaps and bounds. Much to my excitement, I look noticeably thinner and younger. Still I am not happy. There’s so much more to be done. Physical perfection (or close to it) must be attained for people to take notice. I’m not looking for a man; that is not the purpose of all this. I just want people to look at me and honestly think I’m beautiful – not cute as a button, but truly beautiful. And I want them to tell me so so that I may then go home, look at myself in the mirror, and say, “yes, indeed I am beautiful.”
Only then will my efforts not be in vain. Only then will I fully be satisfied.
Thwarted Ambitions October 18, 2007
If it weren’t for NPD OCPD and narcissism, I would have been a professional bely dancer by now. And a great one, too. Not just based on what I think of my potential, but based on what others have said (and still say) of my dancing.
But I am not and will never be.
I hold myself back from achieving my true potential. I am incapable of following any ambitions to the end because the standards I set for myself are too high, my ideals of perfection too great. I live in a fantasy world. Any small setbacks are seen as complete failures. I must be as great as the dancer in my fantasies or I am nothing. When I realize I cannot live up to my grandiose fantasies, I soon lose interest and give up altogether.
Envy of others plays an important role in my self-sabotage. When I look at those around me who’ve made it as dancers, and then I look at myself who’s done nothing despite of the talent I know I have, I can’t help but feel jealousy, anger, and shame. Rather than compete against these girls and face a sure (humiliating) defeat, I capitulate instead. I let them have it because I know I can’t have it, can’t do it.
My conscience scolds me severely for being a failure, a good-for-nothing, a loser. The masochist in me then engages in self-sabotaging, self-defeating behaviors to reinforce that belief and punish myself further. Utterly defeated, I retreat into guilt and wallow in self-pity until something reinstills hope in me and prompts me to try again and repeat the cycle all over again.
In the end, though, I remain in the same spot, never going anywhere, never accomplishing anything.
Hey, I’m A Fucking Narcissist! October 17, 2007
Edit: I wrote this post a while back in the spur of excitement (as I re-read it, I really sound ridiculous). As it turns out, I doubt I really have Narcissistic Personality Disorder after all. After further research and self-analysis, I have found that the diagnosis of Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder best fits me. It is what clicks, what now makes me go, ‘wow, no wonder I’ve done this, that, and the other.’
While I do have strong narcissistic traits and tendencies, I do not qualify for the full-blown disorder. Come to think of it, I’m not that as evil, ruthless, and cruel as the true NPDer (though OCPDers and NPDers do have the lack of empathy, haughty, even demeaning behavior, and control of others in common). Furthermore I neither lie nor cheat, and I have strong morals and values to which I firmly, stubbornly stick to, which is definitely not characteristic of NPD, but more of OCPD. I also have a strong conscience and do feel guilt when I hurt other people.
Finally I should probably mention that a true NPDer would never admit he/she had a problem like I do (my father, who is without a doubt NPD, is one of those people. There’s no arguing with him; he’s perfectly sane - it’s everyone else who’s against him).
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I’ve got it! I’ve got it! After so many years of asking, pondering, self-analyzing, and searching I have FINALLY got it.
All of my behaviors, all of my habits, all of my feelings, all of my thoughts, and ALL of my life from the time I was a wee child until this very day can be explained by THIS. I’ve read a lot of stuff before, but I have NEVER in my life seen or heard anything that describes me to a T as this page does! The whole way through as I was reading it I couldn’t help but exclaim, “OMG, stop talking about me!” or “YES, YES, that’s RIGHT!” and “Oh HOW did you know I did that?!” Quite eerie, let me tell you.
Narcissistic Personality Disorder. One probably could have suspected that from the statements I made in the last two posts. I’m EXTREMELY self-centered, so much that it consumes me and makes my life a living nightmare. Those self-contradicting thoughts that I could never explain? I understand them now!
It feels so enlightening to know the answers to the questions I’ve been asking myself for so long – to know why I do the things I do and why I feel the way I do.
Sure, knowing won’t change a thing. I mean, based on the prognosis for NPD, chances are I’ll stay this way forever. But God damn it, I don’t care! I never did care about getting better (in case you haven’t noticed from reading my blog yet). In therapy I was always so fucking resistant to change, but I guess now I know why. I’m not going back to therapy. It’s a waste of time and money. And those antidepressants, fuck them. It’s not like they make my life any better. I’m still depressed but guess what, deep down I want to be depressed. And one day I’m gonna kill myself, so who cares?
I should rename this blog Moody Narcissist. HA HA HA HA! I feel so powerful suddenly.
