In the final throes of summer the trees lose that brilliant, neon green and the waves crash to shore just a little harder than they did last week. It’s a small change, yet I see it every year as I stand on the shore, that breeze that blows the marram grasses into my bare legs is just a touch colder than usual, the days a little shorter, a feeling of change in the air.
I watch a mother call her kids in from the sea with a broad wave of her arm, “We’re packing up the caravan,” she’s calling out, “Come and help your dad put the cases in the car, won’t you?”
Within sight of me, Liam wipes the counter down at the surf shack, and there is no queue today for ice cream, and soon it’ll be just the locals left, going about their year in this village of boarded up houses. He sees me and waves enthusiastically, and I lift a limp hand in response.
“You off soon?” He shouts, and I shrug.
“Tomorrow.”
“Ah, well sure I might see you around before you go. I’ll be here.”
I turn back to face the shore. Yeah. He’s always here. I wonder what it’s like for him when the summer is over, like, what does Liam do in the winter? Does he still go surfing? Does he still stand there smiling at the Surf Shack window, through rain and storms, smiling out to sea and waiting for customers like some kind of ancient ghost doomed to act out this routine until the end of time? How is it that he is fifteen and it feels like he’s been there for centuries.
Shane Healy comes down the sandy path from the village and my stomach clenches. He is not smiling, and he’s walking towards me with a particular sort of impatient purpose that makes me feel like the most burdensome fool to ever exist. Who knows what I interrupted by asking him to come here, but I have a feeling he’s about to tell me.
“Here, man,” he huffs, “We were packing the bags to go home, what is it?”
I hesitate, aware of my hands sunken into pockets, thinking perhaps I should take them out and be prepared for any potential violence. “Um,” I say, “I thought that you and I should talk.”
“Oh yeah?” He has a glint in his eye. Is it a murderous glint? I can’t decide.
“I was talking to Jen about you guys, you know, not inviting me to hang out at your place the other night and I was just wondering-”
“Yeah, obviously. Why would I invite you over?”
“...Because we’re meant to be friends, I don’t know, why else would you-”
“Man, look, I don’t know if you think I’m stupid or something, but obviously I found out what you’ve been saying about Kelly, and I don’t really think it’s a good idea for you to be in the same room as her, she’d just get mad or something, I don’t know.”
“Kelly?” I splutter. “What did I ever say about Kelly?”
“I get pissed off at her, right? She’s annoying, but she’s my sister, and only I’m allowed to say things about her, not you. I dunno, I just thought you’d have a bit more cop-on, a bit more compassion or something, like, she’s been…” He hesitates, like the next thought is disturbing, “.... fairly upset about it, to be honest.”
I search all over his face for some sign that he’s pranking me, but he isn’t. His jaw is set and his brow is furrowed. “Shane, honestly, I don’t even know what I said. I don’t think that I ever said anything about her.”
“Okay but it actually has to have been you.”
“What? Why? What was said?”
“Man, come on, I know you’re like this, I know you just say and do shit without really thinking about it, and you’re an annoying bastard about it and usually it’s fine, but I’m just mad that you targeted my little sister. It’s not on.”
My heart is drumming a staccato beat inside my chest, “Shane, what the hell! I didn't say anything, I mean, maybe I did and I can’t remember. What-”
“That nobody wants to hang out with her, that she’s a loser and that our mam has to force people to be friends with her,” He scowls, “All the teenagers at the caravan park heard about it and they’re all ripping the piss, saying that she needs mammy’s to hold her hand.”
“That wasn’t me. I’d never say that.”
“Well we figured out that it must have been, alright? Because mam said that she asked you, you specifically, to invite Kelly to hang out because she was worried she was feeling a bit lonely.”
The idea that Shane’s mam thinks I spread these rumours makes me queasy. I remember that night. We were out on the dunes, we ran out of beer, I went back to the Healy’s mobile home to sneak more out, and Clóda came-
Clóda.
“No - listen, I swear it wasn’t me,” I begin, but he’s already finished and doesn’t really care about what else I have to say. He’s backing away.
“Whatever, Jude. If this is what you asked me here to talk about then I have things to be at, so,” he gives me a nod as I splutter in protest, but he just walks away with a curt wave, “I’ve to pack, so, see you next summer, or whatever.”
“Shane, wait! Shane, man, c’mon!” He doesn’t turn around. “Fuck sake,” I mutter and I grab my phone from my pocket. I punch out a quick text to Clóda.
Meet me in the park when you’re finished work.
I stalk off in the other direction.
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Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.
NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.
I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.
The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.
Because it's so hard to exist in this world.
My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:
Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)
Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.
Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.
Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.
Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.
Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s
I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.
So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".
Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)
Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.
If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.
NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD
Stigma in the DSM
Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)
"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."
(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)
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A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc
"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."
"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.
"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.
"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"
"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.
"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."
"This is where I live."
"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"
"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"
"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."
"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."
"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."
"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"
"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"
"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"
"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"
"Please, call me Bruce."
"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."
Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.
"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."
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