H.G. Tudor - Further Confessions of a Narcissist

FURTHER

CONFESSIONS

OF A

NARCISSIST

BY

H G TUDOR

All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2015

Further Confessions of a Narcissist

By

H G Tudor

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Insight Books

Dedications

To those who continue to contribute and debate.

Introduction

Hello and welcome to another dark collection of my nefarious behaviours and observations straight from the brilliant if malevolent mind of the narcissist.

In order to provide you with unrivalled insight into the way that the minds of my kind and me work, I have provided further observations and thoughts on various aspects of the interaction we have with the world and in particular with you. A variety of topics come under the microscope on this occasion ranging from why it is so hard to comprehend whether we actually love you or not to our attitude to the question of money, through to why we are at war with the world. I know that you will be staggered by some of these revelations and you will have numerous lightbulb moments as you work through the material. Many times you will nod your head in grim acknowledgement of your recognition of the behaviours that are described.

You will be used to my no-nonsense style by now. I make no apologies for it (as you know, I do not apologise for anything) as what you need is the direct explanation and description of what has happened and what may be happening to you at present. Dithering with lengthy explanations that are rambling are of no use to you. Scientific discourses have their place but not here. This is my style and this is my method of conveying the benefit of my experience, observations and why I do as I do in order to enable you to obtain understanding and to assist you in whatever way you see fit. I tell you as it is to enable you to make your own decisions in order to determine your own life. I am not here to tell you how to recover or heal from your treatment at the hands of a narcissist, I am not equipped to do this as I am not a healer. Far from it. What I am though is the instrument that builds you up and then knocks you down and then does it all over again. I am the one that knows why I do what I do and I am content to share this with you so that you can use this information as you see fit.

Should you ever want me to provide my views on a particular subject then I would be happy to hear your suggestions as I am always keen to hold forth on a certain matter or issue. I like to opine about it and you get to read my view, which may aid your understanding and you can utilise this priceless information in whatever way you wish. Details on how to send your suggestions to me can be found at the rear of this publication.

Thank you for reading and I hope you find my further confessions illuminating and insightful. In fact, I know you will.

HG Tudor

November 2015

Indiana Empath and the Golden Idol

You are the foolhardy explorer. You may label me as driven and single-minded but take a moment to consider your own position. There, gleaming and glistening on a plinth is your prize. The golden idol. Grasping this guarantees your return to the golden period with me, that time of utterly intoxicating desire, supreme happiness and the perfect love. All you need to do is take it in your hand and you will be transported back to that wonderful place. It is an irresistible temptation. In order to reach the plinth and its alluring prize you must negotiate your way past an array of dangerous traps. First of all, you must walk the daily tight rope and avoid plunging into the pit of toxicity that bubbles beneath it. This tightrope is being cut away by one of my loyal Lieutenants as you try to walk across it. From the left another of my Lieutenants is firing his Proxy Weapon at you, shooting bolts of Smear Campaign. You cannot throw them back but you must try to duck and dodge them. From the right, another lieutenant uses his Proxy Weapon to launch repeated Character Assassinations at you. They come thick and fast.

From the tight rope you now need to cross the eggshells that are scattered across a large section of the floor. As if this was not hard enough, jets of Narcissistic Rage spurt out at completely random intervals from around the room, seeking to burn you and have you topple onto the eggshells breaking them. Beyond this is a merry go round. You cannot avoid it and you must get on and find yourself being spun around at a dizzying speed. All the while loudspeakers pump out scurrilous accusations at you to belittle and confuse. You have to somehow get off the merry go round despite the neck breaking speed at which it turns.

Dizzy and disorientated you blunder into another room where barbed spears drive at you from every direction if you tread on the wrong paving stone. There is no way to gauge which stone will generate a spear that is seeking to wound you. All you can do is try to conquer your wheeling vision from the merry go round and hope Lady Luck somehow steers you through this room. Somehow you might surmount it and then walk into a further room. This room is lit with flames, fuelled by gas and the light flares up and down in no consistent fashion as you are expected to walk through a maze. The dimming and glowing lights cast shadows which send you the wrong way time and time again as frustration mounts and you try to steer a way through this maze. Up above you fly several of my lieutenants who offer to lift you up and carry you across the maze. Exhausted and weary you accept their kind offer only to find that they carry you back to the start of this hellish puzzle.

If I showed you this malevolent contraption without the prize you would shake your head and walk away, but you have seen the prize, indeed I allowed you to hold it for a moment and you could feel its potency to return you to the golden period. You want that prize. Nobody sane would surely go through all that though would they? But your sanity has been compromised and you will endure all of those trials just to try to claim the idol, even though you are unaware that it will turn to dust as soon as you lift it from the plinth. Indiana Jones wouldn't even attempt it, but as Indiana Empath you will.

Early Indications

Dr E asked me in one of our sessions, the following question,

When you first identify somebody that you are interested in, what draws you to them?

What do you mean by interested? I asked.

Somebody who you identify as a potential source of your fuel, he clarified.

You have answered your own question there, doctor, I replied.

Dr E gave a short smile.

Very well, I shall rephrase. When you have identified somebody who you regard as a good source of fuel for you, what is it about them, apart from the provision of the fuel, that draws you to them? Is it the way that they look or something that they do? Is it always the same with each person?

They need to be empathic, I answered enjoying telling Dr E what he already knew.

Indeed, yes indeed, what is it then that tells you that this particular person is empathic in nature and thus will be that source of fuel. Do they have a tell-tale sign? Do they move in a certain way? Do they say particular things? You have told me on previous occasions that you can smell prey as you put it, tell me how you do that. Do they have to exhibit a certain behaviour? Are you able to tell from the moment you meet somebody or can you tell earlier, then again is it the case that you have to speak to them for a while first or perhaps you need to observe them?

I find Dr E entertaining at times. He gets carried away asking questions that I often think that if I sit back and say nothing he will eventually hit on the answer himself and save me the effort of telling him. That said though, I do like him to listen to me as I hold forth. On many occasions I have purposefully engaged in a lengthy and rambling discourse. I have to fight to keep my mirth at bay as he scribbles frantically across his note pad. His head bobs up and down as he conveys his understanding to me and he rarely asks me to slow down. I have wondered why he does not do that. At first I thought it was because he only writes selectively and then I considered that he may be using annotations or shorthand. I have seen some of the typed up notes that he produces and I must admit, he takes a near verbatim record of my responses. On one occasion as I delivered a monologue, I got up and paced about his consulting room as if to add import to the words that I delivered. In the course of strolling about, arms waving and finger jabbing I looked over his shoulder and could see that his notes were longhand with the occasional abbreviation. I decided then to speak more quickly and I returned to my seat to continue with my comments. When I saw a note of the session I was interested to read that he had managed to record what I had said near perfectly. There was only one answer to that; the rascal was recording our sessions. He does not do so overtly and he has never sought my permission to do so but that can only be the correct conclusion. I like to think that as his home he has a shelf of recordings, labelled as the HG Sessions. I did wonder if he had a crush on my voice. He would not be the first. I have often been complimented on my voice and it has been suggested I ought to do voice over work. My clear and deep delivery evidently appeals. So much so that secretaries would often seek to undertake my dictation before anyone elses so they could listen to me speak. Perhaps Dr E find this soothing and listens to our sessions when he is relaxing late at night with a bottle of red? I would not be surprised to find that that is the case.