10 ways to make your narcissistic partner really mad

Found this list in my notes today.


10 ways to make J mad enough to curse me out and go drinking:

1. Ask if he’d like a tomato.
2. Make brunch plans
3. Suggest going to a patio instead of grocery shopping
4. As if you can watch something on tv later
5. If you’re stuck in traffic, suggest not going to the destination that’s far and hard to get to.
6. Ask him to let you know when he’s not stuck on the subway anymore.
7. Make cranberry sauce without giving advance notice
8. Offer him a breakfast sandwich more than once
9. Be skeptical about a startup opportunity
10. Ask if he felt bad watching SNL without me.

It wasn’t until I realized my flaws were ‘the flavor of the month’ that I woke up to the reality: I was not perfect, but I was not at fault.


My husband was arrested tonight.


I am writing this from the land of shock, and relief, and more shock.

I am writing this with the understanding that there are so many kinds of domestic violence and abuse, and I am one of millions….. and so many have it worse. Mine has been fairly verbal in nature.

It’s what we do, isn’t it? We make our situation less bad. We normalize it, just like they do. Tonight my husband went downstairs and ate popcorn after holding his hand over my face and calling me a fucking failure.

Who have I been? Where have I gone? How did I come back all of the sudden???

To You – the woman reading this who still believes that if you change a little more or give a little more, things will be ok – I want you to know that it’s not your fault. You are fine. You are more than fine. You still have strength in you or he wouldn’t be interested. They only like the strong souls, and you know it.

To You – the woman who has told people little bits but nobody quite gets it, and although people care, they can’t save you – and deep inside you know that you need to be saved – rescued – helped in some way because you have been so brainwashed and torn apart that you can’t do it alone anymore. And what’s worse – you love him. Listen, it’s love but it’s also brainwashing and addiction, and you know that too, and it’s ok that you are obsessed with him and that you love him, it’s normal. And it’s normal that you want someone to care when you hurt and pick you up off the ground when you’ve been put down so low you feel utterly bewildered by life.

You still believe in him. Do you believe in you? You must believe in you.

To You – the woman who thought he was a handful but a handful that you knew how to love and care for. No one is your perfect match who makes you feel like dying. Yet you forgive, you go back, you keep hoping.

To You – the woman who is so ashamed of how weak and isolated you’ve become. Don’t be ashamed. Stop loving him. Don’t change a thing about your life, just stop believing, in your heart of hearts, that this is love.

To You – the woman who wants to make a change but feels barely strong enough to fight back anymore, let alone overhaul your whole life.

You can take small steps. The universe has a funny way of tuning into these changes. If you change on the inside, everything changes.

Tonight, he made his own bed…an unprovoked and unreacted-to attack, and I called the police.

I’m writing to you from the other side….. he’s gone, and I feel like my prayers have been answered.

He’s gone. And they believed me. And they could see I wasn’t the crazy, stupid one.

I’m here with my daughter. And we are fine.

I’m writing to you from the days and weeks of prayers and tears that were answered tonight.

I am not hurt. But enough happened that he could be arrested for assault, and the police woman who came in to talk to me got it — she knew. It was like she could smell the pattern of aggression and control.

The house is too clean she said.

YES – and he calls me a lazy slob.

What’s that movie? she says… the one with Julia Roberts.

Sleeping with the enemy…. about the obsessively clean abusive controlling husband she eventually escapes from.


From today, he will not be allowed near me. I am terrified. But I am safe from him. Holy Fuck.

You know I’ve been reading a lot about domestic violence and verbal abuse and things like that and the more I was able to believe that it wasn’t my fault…. the more I could see how FUCKED it is!!!!!

Tonight I saw them take him away in cuffs.

Am I free of it?

My mother can’t believe I’m still kind to him, still love him. But that’s what they prey off of…… people with loving hearts. Well guess what? I ain’t no one’s dinner anymore, you hear? I ain’t no one’s dinner anymore.


Survivor Georgey.

This Glamorous Life

Met with my agent on Friday and he said my novel is tighter than ever and ready to go out at the end of the month, pending (as always) a few additions. But this time it’s FINAL draft, this is HAPPENING!

On D Day it will go to 60 publishers. SIXTY!

Dear lord please let one of those sixty fall madly in love with it.

Dreaming of book store readings and hard cover pyramids…… press interviews and teaching budding writers….. having time to write novel two…… getting a good review……… Oh my… could this really be happening?

“How long has it been?” he asked me, in the cafe.

“Three years of revisions, almost to the day,” I said.

“Really?” he said. “I thought it was only two.”

“My daughter’s turning three this month,” I said.

“Oh that’s right… when I met you you were pregnant……See? This is why not everybody does this. It’s hard, hard work.”

Damn right it is Sam. But Sooooooooo worth it. THIS IS MY DREAM, COMING TRUE!

I am ready. I am ready. I am ready for this!


To stay in touch, go without.

On Friday when we got home I turned on the kitchen sink faucet and watched as the stream went from barely there to entirely gone. Our water supply had frozen.

Ironic, somehow, as I have wondered, in the last few months, if I had “lost touch”. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone without major creature comforts. Inside I knew I very much had lost touch, I felt it. But I had no idea what to do about it.

So on Friday when we lost running water to our house, I was *throttled* into a crystal clear picture of what it means to go without.

I washed my dishes in snow (here it is below, before I melted it with hot water!)



Within hours, my kitchen (and bathroom) became opportunities for resourcefulness. With vastly different sights and smells than usual.

Places of more suffering. Less primping. More gratitude. Less whining.

Two days go by, and we start to wonder… how long can we go here, without flushing toilets or washing machines? Or water to brush our teeth? The guy from the city came yesterday and confirmed that its an issue with the water service, not a pipe in our house. Could be days. Could be weeks.

I feel like we are being tested — harshly — and yet, not even too harshly.

Our brush with the elements has so far included a warm house, the ability to buy enough water to get by, and friends nearby who took us in for showers. In other words, we are very uncomfortable yes, but we are not dirty for long, or thirsty.

Tonight I fly to Manhattan, leaving my daughter and husband here in our warm but waterless house (Update: Daughter going to my mom’s house. Thank God). I tried to get out of it but I’m leading a group of about 12 in these meetings. No cancelling allowed.

It’s going to be a hard trip. I’ll suffer – you know, all the kinds of suffering that one can muster while looking at Manhattan from the 19th floor of an iconic hotel.

If I’m worth my salt (we’ll see), I don’t think I’ll ever be able to blindly enjoy a hotel room again without being deeply somewhat, a little bit more aware:

Tonight, some people are comfortable but most are not. Tonight – the world comes to the doorsteps of some and we don’t lift a finger. For many, this will never, ever happen.Tonight, some live with ease while most do not. Like not in their entire lifetime.