There was one thing that really caught my attention. They mention how narcissists speak in you statements. The counter point is that healthy individuals use I statements. I found this particularly troubling. I have a very hard time speaking in I statements.
Now how many people went back and counted the I's up to this point? Seems to contradict what I'm saying (see, another one!). I can lecture with I. I can't talk about feelings with I. That's always bothered me. Where I work, they teach people how to hold difficult conversations. And this is one piece of advice we give too. I really struggle with it. It comes out sounding and feeling, well, awkward. Forced. Insincere. I don't like feeling insincere. Integrity is very important to me.
I feel in stories. Doesn't that sound weird? When a piece of music or a song generates an emotional reaction, a story forms in my mind. I'll even zone out filling in the details. Actually, just about any emotional time I can think of had a fictional story associated with it. I'll pull bits and pieces from things that interest me. I've created entire universes inside my head. All as a way of processing some emotion.
A friend of mine feels in color. Different colors represent different emotions. I find it quite fascinating. For me, different stories represent different emotions. Now here's where the real problem comes in - I don't consciously know what those feelings are. I don't think I could even tell the story. The act of putting it down loses all of the emotional content. And I most definitely cannot tell you what emotions it's processing. Maybe some larger, obvious ones. But the shades are all lost. Hidden behind a fog.
To speak in I statements, I have to translate from story into words. How do I do that when I don't know what the story means? It isn't until all is said and done that it finally clicks. Up to that point, all I have is the story of what happened. And I'm not the only actor. Sometimes, I'm not even the main one.
I knew someone who also told themselves stories. She told stories to change her reality. She believed her stories. At first, I used to wonder if my memory was going. If I had forgotten what happened. I finally realized this person imagined having conversations and convinced herself that they actually happened. Fantasy was an escape. And she lost the ability to distinguish it.
I know my stories aren't real. Just like I understand television isn't real. I don't know how to explain it. They're processed differently in my brain. And even if a story's going while someone is talking, there is a difference, a wall, between the two. I'm not sure why this seems important enough to write down.
I suspect that person is a covert narcissist. She would only speak rationally when I got angry. And yes, beating my head against a wall eventually makes me angry. Ironically, that only makes me angrier. In Romans, Paul talks about treating enemies with kindness to pour "burning coals of fire on their head". That was the first thing I thought of when I realized what was happening. Am I the one who's wrong and having burning coals dumped on my head?
Paul encourages us to love our enemies. The purpose of kindness is reconciliation. The kindness increases after it has it's effect. This person stopped their kindness after they got an excuse to be a victim. Their kindness is a lie designed for their own glory. God wants His kindness to flow through us and out into the world. His kindness doesn't end. It doesn't have a purpose other than the benefit of the other person. His kindness is proactive, not responsive. I think that's the difference.
Sounds like rationalizing, doesn't it? Believe you me, I can rationalize with the best of them. And yet I find peace in the words. So don't trust me. Don't take my word at face value. Ask the One who searches the heart of men. Who digs into our deepest motives. I believe this is what He asked me to write. And I believe His Son's blood covers the parts that I got wrong.
Now how many people went back and counted the I's up to this point? Seems to contradict what I'm saying (see, another one!). I can lecture with I. I can't talk about feelings with I. That's always bothered me. Where I work, they teach people how to hold difficult conversations. And this is one piece of advice we give too. I really struggle with it. It comes out sounding and feeling, well, awkward. Forced. Insincere. I don't like feeling insincere. Integrity is very important to me.
I feel in stories. Doesn't that sound weird? When a piece of music or a song generates an emotional reaction, a story forms in my mind. I'll even zone out filling in the details. Actually, just about any emotional time I can think of had a fictional story associated with it. I'll pull bits and pieces from things that interest me. I've created entire universes inside my head. All as a way of processing some emotion.
A friend of mine feels in color. Different colors represent different emotions. I find it quite fascinating. For me, different stories represent different emotions. Now here's where the real problem comes in - I don't consciously know what those feelings are. I don't think I could even tell the story. The act of putting it down loses all of the emotional content. And I most definitely cannot tell you what emotions it's processing. Maybe some larger, obvious ones. But the shades are all lost. Hidden behind a fog.
To speak in I statements, I have to translate from story into words. How do I do that when I don't know what the story means? It isn't until all is said and done that it finally clicks. Up to that point, all I have is the story of what happened. And I'm not the only actor. Sometimes, I'm not even the main one.
Fiction or Non-Fiction?
I knew someone who also told themselves stories. She told stories to change her reality. She believed her stories. At first, I used to wonder if my memory was going. If I had forgotten what happened. I finally realized this person imagined having conversations and convinced herself that they actually happened. Fantasy was an escape. And she lost the ability to distinguish it.
I know my stories aren't real. Just like I understand television isn't real. I don't know how to explain it. They're processed differently in my brain. And even if a story's going while someone is talking, there is a difference, a wall, between the two. I'm not sure why this seems important enough to write down.
I suspect that person is a covert narcissist. She would only speak rationally when I got angry. And yes, beating my head against a wall eventually makes me angry. Ironically, that only makes me angrier. In Romans, Paul talks about treating enemies with kindness to pour "burning coals of fire on their head". That was the first thing I thought of when I realized what was happening. Am I the one who's wrong and having burning coals dumped on my head?
Paul encourages us to love our enemies. The purpose of kindness is reconciliation. The kindness increases after it has it's effect. This person stopped their kindness after they got an excuse to be a victim. Their kindness is a lie designed for their own glory. God wants His kindness to flow through us and out into the world. His kindness doesn't end. It doesn't have a purpose other than the benefit of the other person. His kindness is proactive, not responsive. I think that's the difference.
Sounds like rationalizing, doesn't it? Believe you me, I can rationalize with the best of them. And yet I find peace in the words. So don't trust me. Don't take my word at face value. Ask the One who searches the heart of men. Who digs into our deepest motives. I believe this is what He asked me to write. And I believe His Son's blood covers the parts that I got wrong.
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