Why Sadness

Again, here I am. A little sad and I’m not sure why. I’m in Positano, one of the best places in the world for beautiful escarpments. I rooted myself for a few days, so I’ve gotten to know a few people and yet, I’m still sad.


I am just going to sit with it, but I don’t have any idea why I’m feeling this way. In the past, I would’ve done my best to talk myself out of the mood. I would state the attributes and conclude it wasn’t reasonable. Fortunately, I’ve learned that doesn’t work long term.

Denying or repressing emotions doesn’t make them go away. It just forces them to settle in your body and fester until they erupt at inappropriate times. Alternatively, they can manifest as all kinds of illnesses, muscle aches, headaches, general malaise or worse.

So here I sit sad and I have no idea why.



Yes, this is the fourth post on the same topic. It is taking a lot more work to get this into a blog than I imagined it would. I know that not writing about this has jammed up the works. I find I cannot get to the next thing when something is in queue and I won’t write it.IMG_6926

In my mind’s eye, I envisioned myself as having an ability to write cutting edge stuff, provocative, interesting, controversial and the only reason I was not able to write that way was because I was forcing myself to write blogs for my coaching and about narcissism.

So I decided to take the gloves off and write what I actually was thinking about and what was going on in my real life, right now.

Despite being bombarded by bugs, birds and beasts very little is going on. Turns out, in just over a hundred short blogs I’ve said most of what I wanted to say. None of it was earth shattering or cutting edge.

Was my self-image a flea? (There is a link there. I know they are hard to see, because at this point NONE of them have been clicked in any of my blogs.)

Do I have an inflated self-image, based on nothing more than an attitude that I was brought up with and married into? Am I actually just an average writer with banal thoughts who just has a desire to write?

This is hard to swallow. How much of my life is just that? An unrealistic view of my talents and abilities brought on by living in an environment when anything less was belittled. That is why I am sad.



Writing this blog has been forcing me to confront truths about myself. Sadness comes with seeing who you are more clearly, especially when you don’t like what you see.

As a life coach with a sub-specialty in narcissism. I often coach people during their recovery from a relationship with a narcissist. “Fleas” is a term that comes up in this process.

Fleas are things you catch from a narcissist. I like the term because not unlike catching fleas from your pet, it is possible to get rid of fleas, once you know you have them.

Part of my current sadness is recognition of another flea I have from my narcissist influences. Let me back up a bit.

This is Harriet. She lives in my office at work. I have asked others to water her.

This is Harriet. She lives in my office at work. I have asked others to water her.

An easy example to explain is: asking for help. For those of you who are lucky enough to have never experienced a narcissist up close and personal in your life, let me explain why asking for help becomes an issue.

A true narcissist is not someone who is arrogant. It is someone who is unable to feel the emotions of another person. Narcissists have no empathy. In real life this means they don’t care if they hurt you, because they don’t care how you feel.

When you ask for help, they make it all about them. If they are not trying to gain advantage, make up for a wrong or manipulate you in some other way, they will not help you. It does not stop there.

The reason they do not help you is because, “you should be able to do it yourself”, “you did not ask properly/on-time/nicely/far enough in advance……”, “you are too lazy to do it yourself”, “you are useless”, “you are too demanding”. I think that is enough examples.

Long story short. A “flea” people develop is to stop asking for help. This is reasonable with a narcissist, because asking leads to an attack. This is not as helpful when you are dealing with others because they don’t understand why you didn’t just ask for help.



Well, here we go. I started this blog with the goal of using my authentic voice and I must admit I’ve been stuck. You see, one part of me, I don’t like to expose, is my sadness.IMG_6991

My first recollection of feeling this way was on the school yard, at the school I attended until the end of grade three. In other words, all I know for sure was that I was between five and nine years of age.

When I went onto the school yard I was always upbeat. This is not a phony thing, or a persona I try to create or maintain. It is who I am most of the time. Most being the operative word there.

On this day, I stayed to myself, hung back and did not engage with anyone. Everyone ignored me. No one rushed over to see how I was. None of my friends were concerned or even seemed to notice.

It was clear to me I was going to be alone, especially on that day, unless I “put on a happy face” and went to meet some of my classmates. As a sad child, I had disappeared.

So here I am today, fighting with myself about posting about my sadness. We are over the peak. The longest day, which happened to correspond with the full moon, was yesterday. I’ve noted how often the full moon has punctuated changes in my life this year.

Now we enter the slow slide to Christmas before the days begin to lengthen again. Sadness comes with realizations and truths.



I have repeatedly told myself that I feel the same on the inside regardless of my appearance on the outside. I believe this to be true. Being aware of myself and who I am — the barking is still interfering with my thought process — I’m trying to explain the knowledge that I am the same person regardless of my appearance.

I have always tried to maintain an appearance of good hygiene and clean clothes and hair, that sort of thing, in public. But I have failed miserably on the “must be thin” side. I have never made it a priority successfully for a long term. None of my other needs were being met and denying myself food would have put me over the edge.

She may have finally stopped barking. I stopped writing and just waited. I could feel the anger and frustration shaping the way I explained myself. That is not the tone I want to be taking.

When I think of Russell, I felt sorry for him. Not, ‘too bad, he’ll have to lose the weight again’, sorry for him. I mean I felt like he was diminished somehow. He no longer had the authority he had had before. He was somehow, less of what I wanted him to be. The fact that they had made him the “loser” the one who had insisted on Gosling being in the movie. Russell was the one that was submissive and fat.IMG_6158

I think of Sadness as depicted in the movie, “Inside Out“. She is blue and fat. A short, frumpy look right down to her wardrobe. It is difficult not to feel sorry for her as well. Is that how others see me? Funny I’m asking that question. I recognized quite some time ago there is no way to ever know for sure what anyone thinks of you. So why spend any time thinking about it?



I was trying to create the shift in my mind from, “a man would be more work” to, “I can picture how a man would make this less work”. So I saw him standing at the stove, back to me, stirring the mushrooms and I walked over to the stove and pressed myself up against his back and wrapped my arms around him. One over his chest and the other his abdomen. Full hug.IMG_6372

I began sobbing and had to brace myself on the stove and counter top. Bent over sobbing. I kept remembering to bring my focus on the sensation I was feeling, however painful, and allow myself to feel the pain so that I could release it.

After a few moments, or minutes, I have no way of knowing, I made it over to a chair and sat there and continued to cry. Then I was done. It left. It was no longer causing pain and I was aware of a tingling where it had passed through me. That stayed for a while, most of the rest of the evening I believe.

So two breakthroughs, that may or may not be related, but lets talk about the fat one first. I promised.

There is a fear of losing part of who I am. I have felt like a champion of women’s rights. Yes, it is possible to be intelligent and not be Hollywood beautiful and thin and you certainly do not need to attain the second in order to be the first. Anyway, I identify with it and I need to know what that part of me needs, because I can’t believe it is to be fat.


Sausage Shaped

Sophie is moaning now in a sorrowful bark. She doesn’t seem to settle on her own. Again, I want to express my gratitude for her reminding me of why I don’t want a dog. After I filled out an application at the Humane Society but well before there was a dog offering.IMG_6673

I had to go talk to Sophie. I don’t know what she is upset¬†about, but she won’t stop barking. It freaked me out a bit. She seemed really distressed. She’s eating. The food was there before she started barking. I’m confused.

It is interesting to have such an odd shaped dog in the house. I have never had a basset hound and their shape is unique. She is almost sausage shaped with very short little legs and rumply, ping pong paddles for ears. It is a very dramatic look, but she can pull it off.

Walking is also a unique event. She insists walking faster than I can and then jutting sideways and possibly backwards when she picks up a scent and then she must investigate.

There was a thought. A thought that proceeded the sadness that washed over me. Yes, the company is nice but how much extra work am I willing to do to have some affection in my life? Not very much I’m afraid.