Sleeping With One Eye Open

And that’s why I don’t like lists, especially To-Do lists.

Okay, now that that conversation between me and my other selves is over we can move on to the next one.

I had a very silly one the other day while sanding and varnishing a window. My mind likes to entertain me or itself or both of us by creating these ridiculous scenarios, throwing me into them and challenging me to figure out how to get out of them.

It started doing that back in the day when I lived with narcissists, because narcissists do that to you – throw you into ridiculous scenarios – and then you have to untangle yourself from them a bit like an insect trying to detach itself from a sticky spider web. You have to learn to stop struggling because that gets you in deeper, stuck forever, and at the same time not give up the struggle to get free.

I’d practice getting myself out on a regular basis. In my head. Prepping myself for the next messy drama.

Sometimes I’d imagine an enraged person coming at me intending to destroy me and I’d have to talk them down from their blazing saddled apocalyptic horse.

Other times I’d be held hostage by terrorists – I lived near the Iranian Embassy in London when it was under siege, and also flew a lot when planes kept getting hijacked.

When you’re a child of narcissist parents it can feel as though you’ve been kidnapped by them and held against your will. Stockholm Syndrome sets in as a survival mechanism… and later it becomes what keeps you trapped even once the cell door is unlocked and open.

I did also create less extreme situations for myself – they were reenactments of the insanely stupid arguments which narcissists love to have. I needed to train my arguing/debating muscles. I also needed to inure myself to narcissistic nit-picking, character assassination, rug-pulling out from under you, and the now I’ve got you sucker game.

While I don’t need to practice anymore, and I’m very grateful that I don’t since it is mentally frazzling and emotionally numbing to deal with narcissists, old habits die hard and this one can be entertaining when doing something boring.

I’ve adjusted it slightly for online purposes since I might bump into a narcissist on social media.

Auntie, did you feel no pain

Falling from that apple tree?

Will you do it, please, again?

‘Cos my friend here didn’t see.

Appreciation by Harry Graham

Luckily there are far more non-narcissists to bump into online and that kind of bumping of cyber bodies is fun.

Let’s get on with Melanie’s latest Share Your World

If you were suddenly injured or died, are your bedside table drawers ready for someone else to go through them?   If you care to share, what’s the most unusual item someone might find, that might be potentially embarrassing?

That’s some dark heavy shit!

Which reminds me of my To-Do list – I have to move a cast iron radiator from its temporary place at the top of the stairs to a temporary place in the barn.

It may end up staying at the top of the stairs simply because that shit is heavy and the stairs are steep.

The plumber did mention that in the good old days they’d throw heavy radiators out of the window as it was easier than getting them down the stairs, but that heavy shit is expensive and I can refurbish it… maybe… and reuse it or sell it to my reclamation yard neighbour, but only if it isn’t bent and broken to bits. Mind you it might not break or bend but instead create a crater, the impact might cause the house to crumble instead… so there’s that too to consider before doing anything.

Getting it down the stairs could cause injury which is why it’s taking so long to move it. I might get squished if it gets loose and picks up momentum and the squish-splatter would mess up the ceiling I’ve just finished painting white.

Little Willie feeling tired of play

Nailed his sister to the door one day

Mother said with accent faint

Don’t, Willie, you’ll spoil the paint

– what I can remember of a Little Willie Ruthless Rhyme by Harry Graham

There’s nothing in my bedside table drawers.

I don’t have a bedside table next to the bed in which I sleep.

I do have a bedside picnic basket.

There’s nothing potentially embarrassing in there, all of the potentially embarrassing stuff I keep online on my blog for all to see… luckily most people don’t see it because they don’t want to have to figure out how to unsee it.

What keeps you going?

True grit… or is that just yesterday’s midnight snack stuck in my teeth?

Grim determination.

Willful disobedience.

A twisted sense of humour.

An appreciation of the ridiculous.

Eccentricity – which is similar to electricity only more zappy.

A sense of adventure – what shit will I get up to next!?!

What shit will the world get up to next!?!

How much longer will we all pretend this has never happened before throughout human history… or are we all suffering from collective selective amnesia brought on by collective embarrassment at the shit we do and keep doing?

“Late last night I slew my wife,

Stretched her on the parquet flooring;

I was loath to take her life,

But I had to stop her snoring.”

Necessity by Harry Graham via this awesome site I found while trying to find Little Willie Rhymes

Share a photo or a sentence about your favorite thing(s)

I love mirrors.

I took this pic this morning. The main model is sleeping with one eye slightly open because human is doing something suspiciamouse. Model #2 is Monkeh from Hwayugi – awesome gift from partner. The extra model who is an unnecessary element of pic is wearing a hole-y cardigan from Le Local Charidee Shoppe bought years ago, DIY jeans, and partner’s thrown-out T. That’s not the bed in which I sleep, there’s nothing in that bedside table drawer – the thing under the drawer is shelving which is in stasis atm.

These days I don’t bother looking into them all that often because I don’t need to. I know what I look like well enough – slightly disheveled like I just fell through a hedge, which had some clothes in it, backwards… and it worked out okay-ish, I’m wearing clothes aren’t I?

What I really like about mirrors is how they reflect the light and create windows on windowless walls.

When I was a child I liked mirrors because my friend lived in them – I knew it was my reflection. My reflection was the only person who looked me in the eyes, listened to me, and talked with me properly. We had many conversations… it was similar to how I chat with my mind these days which is also how I write blog posts.

I was an only child who spent a lot of time alone (TFFT)… and I got to know myself during that time, which helped me survive the time I had to spend with my narcissist parents (and their friends, associates, and other adults) who kept trying to kill my self off and replace it with one of their own making.

Little Willie from his mirror

Sucked the mercury all off…

Twas a chilly day for Willie

When the mercury went down.

– Little Willie, what is he like!!! excerpt via Ruthless Rhymes

At the end of  the song “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M.,  where did they all go?

I can’t be bothered to watch the video.

I do like R.E.M (and Michael Stipe is a Capricorn – goatee power!), but this song was never a favourite even though it speaks the truth – everybody does indeed hurt.

The collective ouch is a big and loud one…. so much of what happens in the human world – the good, bad, ugly and beautiful – is due to human hurt, humans hurting.

Want to figure out why someone, hero or villain or neither or both, did what they did – look at their hurt.

Just the other day in my blog’s search term stats I found this doozie gem – how to kill one using their birth chart horoscope – really!?! And I bet they think they’re the hero in this scenario. Someone hurt them so now someone has to feel their pain and hurt too… usually when someone hurts you it’s because they were hurt and want their pain to be acknowledged, seen, heard, and so on… and on and on it goes, where and when it stops… fuck if I know!

If I had to guess… the video people went to collect their paycheck for their work in the video, after that they went home, maybe after the video cast and crew wrap party, and in the darkness of their bedroom they wondered what they were doing with their life.

Maybe they should write down the pros and cons of it all… reassess, review, and remind themselves of why they were doign what they were doing.

They opened the bedside table drawer to look for a pen and paper to write upon with the pen, but… either too much was there or nothing was there. They fell asleep… with one eye open because everybody hurts and they’re hypervigilent about how someone else hurting will end up hurting them if they relax.

In the drinking-well

(Which the plumber built her)

Aunt Eliza fell, —

We must buy a filter.

Aunt Eliza by Harry Graham

What are you grateful for right now?

That I am no longer pushing elephants up the stairs… that makes getting an elephant of a cast iron radiator down the stairs seem like a piece of piss.

If you’re a member of Mensa who has never heard of R.E.M… you won’t get that reference.

And you probably haven’t heard of Little Willie either.

Weep not for little Leonie,

Abducted by a French Marquis!

Though loss of honour was a wrench,

Just think how it’s improved her French.

Compensation by Harry Graham

Years ago while going through a phase of inertia, physical, mental and emotional, I decided to take one of those online IQ tests to prove to myself just how dumb I was.

I got a high score and the site said it was high enough for me to join Mensa – I was dumb but not dumb enough to fall for what sounded like a narcissistic con. Oh, you’re so special, join our special club for special people… smallprint: membership fees are also special, specially designed for special people who will pay whatever it takes to be special.

Special people often have special levels of special people hurt which invent A-bombs… so no thank you.

But it did inspire me to write quite a few posts later on once I had a blog about the value of not being special.

And one of my regular readers and commentors at the time wrote a wonderful post for my blog about it – The story of a relationship with a narcissist: I Am Not Special by Hope

I hope you’re well, Hope… thank you for sharing and inspiring us with your story!


    • Thank you, Lynette 🙂 That’s some great imagery. I actually just use it as place to keep my gumshield, if I don’t keep it by the bed I forget to use it, and I’m always tripping over the basket so it reminds me it’s there 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  1. When I read the title of this post, the song “Enter Sandman” by Metallica immediately popped in my head. Now it’s ringing in my head. 😜


  2. Your list of what keeps you going looks very much like mine.
    I like Little Willie. It’s that twisted sense of humor.
    When I was right or nine, maybe ten (who knows? who cares?) My mother and some of the neighbors (we lived in an eight unit apartment building) were passing around this IQ test. I took the test and scored higher than several of the adults. Of course that meant the test was faulty. 😂


    • Haha 😀 Children tend to be way smarter than adults which scares the adults and so they cheat to win. I have done that a couple of times as an adult when faced with a kid who made me feel like I had cotton wool for brains, and when I caught myself saying something like “the test is faulty” or “this game sucks, the rules are stupid” it’s been one of those – Oh shit I’ve become like those annoying old people I used to think were so petty and unfair when I was young. Life is full of karmic surprises 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Thanks Ursula for Sharing Your Always Intriguing World with us (and a photo! bonus!!). I wasn’t an only child, but I still had conversations with myself often enough, following the old saw about “of course I talk to myself. Who else would I have such great conversation with?” . Most of the people around me as I grew just didn’t measure up to some internal gauge I had for what was acceptable. My own folly perhaps, I’m sure they all had good qualities of some sort, I just never found out what they were really. Here’s to our internal conversations!


    • Thank you, Melanie 🙂

      Internal conversations are great. So are conversations with others. It’s a very different type of interaction and process, but the two complement each other. One allows you to get to know yourself and the other allows you to get to know others. One sometimes inspires the other – what was said inside wants to go outside and hear how it sounds when voiced and shared, and what was said outside perhaps by someone else goes inside and mingles with the inner world.

      One of the intriguing aspects of blogging is that it’s a way to share the internal conversation with others and find out just how many people have similar internal conversations which they don’t tend to share in their conversations with others for similar reasons – we all think we’re oddballs who don’t fit in to a certain extent.


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