A Different Perspective: The Identity Thief
The very next day after the fiasco at the therapist’s office, The Identity Thief telephoned me. I actually expected for her to call me even though I had not intentions of contacting her. We were supposedly friends, but I had long since figured out that she was/is a narcissist. I was actually coming to terms with the fact that a narcissist does not have friends. A narcissist has targets that become victims.
Without blowing my fuse with The Identity Thief over the phone, I knew I had to handle my interaction with her very carefully. She was connivingly manipulative and had a wicked way of weaving invisible webs in attempts to entangle me. I took her call and waited to listen for her to move into game-playing mode. I discerned that she was already there. The already had her game face on, and I could visualize it as she talked into the phone.
Here We Go
The Identity Thief wasted no time in talking about her appointment with the therapist. She sounded excited and giddy. She was glad that she had made an appointment with “our therapist. She loved the therapist, and described her as being the same woman of great character as she had always known her to be in the past.
Yes … The Identity Thief wasted no time in making it known to me that she had a previous connection with the therapist we now seemed to be sharing together. The therapist was known to her family, and they had a long history together. I was stunned by this information, but I tried not to make that known within my voice.
“Hmm, that’s great” was all I managed to utter as I continued to listen for what came next in The Identity Thief’s story. I could tell that she was carefully wading the murky waters of her instigated discussion with me. I instinctively knew that she knew what I knew, and I think she somewhat feared the outcome of what I knew. I did not desire to play her games. I knew she was waging war against me. Despite her desire to win, I did not care about defeat. I was tired of her.
As soon as she was done with praising up the therapist and informing me of the great connection she had with the therapist, she proceeded to discuss with me the main reason she went to the therapy in the first place. Basically, it was what I thought to begin with – she wanted the therapist’s insight about some outside drama. Apparently, she needed her husband to accompany her as support.
As is usually the case, narcissists only go to therapy with a motive in mind. The motive is usually to continue to inflate themselves or blame others for their problems. They surely are not in therapy because they want their problems pointed out to them. They do not want to reflect on anything about themselves. They instead want to talk about others and how they perceive others to be creating problems for them.
Me: Oh … so you were not there for couple’s therapy?
Inside of myself I could feel tension. I was aggravated and attempting to throw a dagger her way as I could feel the multitude of daggers she had already stabbed me with throughout the call.
Her: Oh no! We are fine. Is that what you thought when you saw us in the waiting room … that something was wrong with us? I would have already told you if that was the case. Maybe that’s why you looked like a deer caught in headlights.
Me: Did I? I’d just left my session, and my sessions can sometimes be deep. There’s a lot to tackle in therapy, and I don’t waste time.
Her: Is everything okay?
Me: Yes … everything’s fine.
I could tell she was fishing for information, but I was not forthcoming.
Her: I was worried. You seemed off to me. I thought maybe you were irritated with me. I hope you’re fine with me going to therapy.
Me: Why would you worry … and why would I be irritated by you going to therapy. I’m all for you getting the help you need. [She’s] a great therapist.
I could not confront The Identity Thief even though I sensed that she was baiting me. I simply did not want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was already underneath my skin by being the great irritant that she was to me. She already knew she would irritate me. Despite my suggesting therapy to her in the past, I did not suggest the therapist that I used for myself.
Her: I hope you aren’t bothered that I chose the same evening as you.
Did I just feel a jab? Did she really just throw that comment in there for the final blow? Of course, she would because that is who she is – a jab thrower. I saw what she was doing, and as much as I wanted to feed into it and blast her, I chose to avoid a battle. She had not only chosen the same therapist, but she had chosen the same days that I had set my appointments for and had somehow usurped my place by taking my time away from me. Now she had the nerve to ask if I was bothered?
I could not let on that I knew that my time had been changed because then it would be clear that I was angry. She would only come off as the innocent one. She would immediately portray herself as the victim by saying that she had no idea that the receptionist would make such a change or even that the therapist would okay it. She would conclude that maybe the therapist did not thing I was not as important as her and neither were my issues. So I just kept quiet. Despite all this, however, I could feel the anger within me boiling into rage.
Me: No, you’re good … If it works for you.
But it did not work for me. It did not work for me at all.
Her: It was the best time for me and [her husband]. I can see why you chose later sessions.
I was speechless. I dared myself to not even breathe into the phone. She knew my time slot and had purposefully stolen it. By this time in our so-called friendship, I had experienced enough of her copycatting ways that I knew that she not only wanted to have what she believed that I had, but she wanted to possess the essence of who I am as a person. She had stolen so much of my identity to the point that I felt like I was going crazy. Instead of reacting to her, I just wanted to get off the phone.
Her: So what had you so upset?
I was at a loss of words, but she just continued to prod.
Me: Just stuff that I’d been dealing with.
Her: You can tell me.
Me: I know, but I don’t really want to talk about it.
Her: Does it have something to do with me?
My mind’s voice said, “You see what she’s doing. Get off the phone. End this conversation. You can either give her the facts or just get off the phone. I say get off the phone.”
Me: You do know that not everything is about you, right? My life doesn’t revolve around you. So I don’t know why you worry so much that my therapy would.
I was annoyed.
Her: I just want to make sure that you aren’t upset with me about anything. Did I do anything wrong?
Yes. She was goading me into a trap. I was not going to war with her. I was already irritated and decided that I was just going to start pulling back. It was enough. I wanted to retreat.
Me: I’m cool. But I wonder … has something happened to make you think that I’m upset? The last time we talked, I thought things were good. Has something happened to shake your confidence about us? I mean, you’re taking my behavior after leaving my therapy session rather personal as if my behavior had something to do with you when my therapy is about me, right?
Her: I just thought you were acting strange last night. It was to the point that I asked [the therapist] if you were okay.
Bingo!
Me: Oh yeah? What did she say?
Her: She said that you were fine, but I don’t think she wanted to tell me anything about what you two had talked about.
Me: I hope not because that would certainly be a breach of confidentiality.
That was it. I had all the confirmation that I needed that The Identity Thief knew that she had invaded my space. She was in no way innocent. Sure … she had every right to see any therapist that she wanted, and maybe she chose this therapist because she knew her from way back when, but I was doubtful that her motives were pure in any regards.
Without telling her, I decided that I was going to take a break from therapy and subsequently take a break from her. This was all just too much for me, and I felt like her presence in my life was suffocating me. I could not breathe. All of this happened during a time in my life when she had invaded almost every area of my life as if to mimic everything that represented me. I felt that my voice was chained in the safest place that I had known which was within the confines of therapy, and now I felt that it had been stolen this away from me.
When it was clear that The Identity Thief was getting nowhere with me in terms of the information she wanted from me about therapy, we trailed off into another topic. She made me aware that she would be continuing therapy with the same therapist for a while. I gathered her words to mean a very long time, but I did not ask her. Inside of myself I felt a hot rush of anger within me. I wanted to say so much more, but I knew that I would have overreacted and blasted her in a way that may have been volatile. Eventually, I found an excuse to end the call.
After this conversation, I followed through on not going to therapy for a while but not until after I continued on to my next appointment. I really wanted to talk to the therapist. I felt that I needed an explanation as to why I felt such betrayal with the therapist’s decision to take on a client with whom she knew I was having problems. I just needed it all to make sense. Maybe that was entitlement on my part, but I believe that I deserved to know the truth. I felt that the therapist had blindsided me in a way that seemed wrong and left me feeling doubtful of her true motives to help me.
Find out what happened according to the therapist in the next post.
My Voice Unchained 