In the past I have referred to myself as a "self-hating narcissist." In my definition that means that I think that I should be excelling at everything and hate myself for not accomplishing all of my hopes and dreams. In past therapy, I have been informed that this term, that I created for myself, is not really using the words in the right way. However, being a self hating narcissist, I ignored them.
I am also commonly the type of person who thinks that other people are thinking and judging me way more than they probably are. I assume that you have heard the statement that no one thinks about you as much you do. So it will probably come as no surprise that Research Confirms That No One Is Really Thinking About You.
While that makes a lot of sense, that reality flies in the face of my personal obsession - me. And what I think you are thinking of me.
I am also trying to be less of a self hating narcissist who believes that every attack is a personal affront and there must be retribution. An Eye for an Eye.
I probably spent a bit too much time in grade school reading the Old Testament. Or perhaps it was through learning about Hammurabi in Sid Meyers Civilization series. Though to be fair, I don't remember much on that in the game. Something that I do remember is a lot of violence in the book of Judges in the Old Testament of the Christian version of the Bible.
It was my favorite book to read - basically a collection of short stories about a warriors, prophets and judges. I even thought it could be turned into a comic book. "Judges - prepare to be judged" isn't the worst title ever. The level of violence and revenge in Judges always felt to me like it could easily slide from ancient Hebrew into the styling of Jim Lee and his artists/creators at Wildstorm. Perhaps I saw Judges as the spiritual predecessor to Team 7. I mean one judge stabbed a guy on the toilet and then escaped capture through the sewer system. Sounds a lot like a scene from Game of Thrones doesn't it?
Deep down, I know that an eye for an eye doesn't work. Gandhi himself revised the famous line to "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." That revision makes sense. It seems more mature, refined.
It doesn't make the primal need for retribution vanish. But logic interrupts emotion.
Except when it doesn't.
I am closing in on 40. I will be 39 in less than a week. But when I feel wronged, when I feel that there has been an injustice visited upon me. I might as well be a toddler inside my own head. While I might have thrown a fit and tantrum on the floor as a toddler, now I keep the hysterics and tantrums contained in my head space. Mostly.
Some times, I break and want to lash out. So I post some emo bullshit on social media or use one of my burner twitter accounts to be pick a pointless fight on Twitter. Or write a really strongly worded email that I never mean to send. Do these childish actions make me feel better? Perhaps in the moment. With the endorphin rush comes coursing through me. Like throwing a glass against a concrete wall. The explosion of shards and cacophony of sound overwhelms the space.
Then seconds later, all I am left with is a bunch of pieces to pick up.
So it is when I break and lash out. Later there are new consequences to pick up. Posts to delete. Twitter handles to burn. Emails that can't be unsent.
It seems to be a common experience in the world today. The cycle of perceived wrongs to justified righteous retribution leading to a mess that no one really knows how to clean up. Pick any topic. Politics. Religion. Interpersonal communication. Dating. Parenting. Health Care. Medication costs. Sports. Diet. Stationary bicycles as Christmas gifts. Avocados.
It feels more and more that our eye for an eye tactics are leaving more and more of us blind. Blind to the suffering of others, the humanity of all and thousands of other topics that you could easily substitute for any of the previously mentioned.
I don't do resolutions. But I am going to try and keep Gandhi's revision in mind going forward. I don't know that I will always be able to control my impulses. I know that I can probably never apologize to Dave in Cleveland or whatever his name was that blocked me after we argued over which baseball team had worse owners. I know that even when I pick up all the pieces, things can't return to what they were before.
Yet, I will try. I think that's something to be proud of.
Though I likely will hate myself for not thinking of it before Gandhi. 😒
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