Living with a sociopathic narcissist: how to survive until one of you is dead from natural causes instead of murder

I’ve written about my sister before, and it hasn’t gotten me in trouble yet so chances are (knock on wood), that this post won’t either.

Unfortunately you have to play a game with sociopathic narcissists. Which more often than not is like playing the children's game “Operation”. You’re bound to fuck up at some point. That’s one of the worst parts about it. YOU will fuck up, but they never will. They will always be the victim. Always.

However as the cliche saying goes: “practice makes perfect!” I’ve become pretty damn good at playing this ridiculous cat and mouse mind game. Lets be clear: I’ve chosen my strategy through trial and error strictly to protect my own mental wellbeing. Not to hurt her. I don’t hate my sister and I never will. For now I have no choice but to live under the same roof as her so I might as well do it in a fashion that doesn’t end with me losing my temper or slowly stewing in isolated resentment and depression.

One thing I do hate is that it has to be this way. That for now and maybe for as long as I live I can’t be myself around my own sister. This is one situation where wearing a mask is okay. Nothing I say or do is going to change her mind about her behavior at this point. I’ve learned that the hard way many times. So I pretend that nothing she does effects me even though it has for years. I pretend that I’m indifferent to her obviously self destructive and selfish behavior.

I believe I wrote about this before but I’ll recap anyways. My sister moved out a couple months back with her deadbeat stoner boyfriend. She said my parents were awful to her and she couldn’t handle their outrageous rules any longer. These rules were things like: don’t miss school. Don’t get high (she’s had problems with pills in the past and almost died during the summer from an overdose), and don’t lie. I know. I have the worst parents on planet Earth because they expect their children to be decent human beings. Oh the humanity!

Anyway she ended up being gone for not even two weeks. She couch surfed the whole time and didn’t have a job or a car at the time. She almost ended up in a homeless shelter. My parents let her move back in without my consent. That’s something I’m still slowly working to get over. I know it’s their house, but I live their too. I know they didn’t have to let me move back in after I spent all my money on alcohol and had nowhere else to go. So for the most part I wasn’t too forceful in my protests.

New rules were established once she moved back in. Enforced by her new therapist. The biggest rule was if she got caught getting high again in any way, shape, or form she’d get kicked out. She’s smoking pot again. I’m certain my parents will cave and let her stay anyways. She just got engaged to her dip shit boyfriend. She’s 17 and he’s 18 for the record. He proposed because he knew she was getting bored and going to dump him soon. She said yes anyway.

A couple weeks ago during a weekday I was woken up by her coming in my room. I keep my cigarettes on my bedside table. I was more asleep than awake and I heard our new puppy Ruby running around in my room so I didn’t think much of it until I heard something that sounded like my pack of cigarettes being opened. I woke up a couple hours later and was certain she’d stolen from me. It had happened months before. I couldn’t prove it despite numerous arguments with her where she did what she does best and turned everything around on me and made me feel like an asshole. This was before I had constructed my conservative strategy to safely deal with her bullshit. I woke up this morning and heard the same mixture of sounds: Ruby running around like a bat out of hell, and then my pack of cigarettes being opened. This time I opened my eyes and looked straight up at my sister. Of course she was surprised. All she said was: “Oh sorry I’m just bumming a cig.” I used to let her bum off me back when I didn’t care about anything and was drinking every day. Then I began to refuse because it honestly made me uncomfortable providing my underage sis with cigarettes.

Lets recap her strategy: she brings our dog in to make it seem like the only reason she’s going into my room is to let her sleep by me. Then she steals from me. So now I have to hide my cigarettes. I know. Smoking is bad for you. I don’t need them anyways, but it’s the principle of the matter. It doesn’t matter if I have a button in my room that I’m planning on pushing later that day to blow up the world. It’s in my room, therefore it’s mine. You don’t steal from family members. Yet my mother keeps nudging me to talk to my sister more and spend time with her. Like that would do something.

What am I going to do about her stealing from me yet again? Probably nothing. After I caught her I closed my eyes and acted like I wasn’t awake when I really was. Why? Because I didn’t want to start my day with an argument that I was bound to lose anyway. Despite how clearly in the wrong she is she’d find a way to twist the logic like she always does. This is what I’ve been reduced to. This is just a small example of what I’ve had to suffer because of her. This is how it has to be until she decides otherwise. It’s all up to her. There’s nothing I can do. Maybe I’ll end up confronting her. Maybe. It sounds like an idea that would cause that loud and obnoxious alarm to go off when you lose “Operation”.

I must stress this about this post: I’m not trying to paint my sister as a bad person. I’m just listing facts and opinions formed from long hours of studying and suffering. I still love her and always will, but the bitter and sad truth of the matter is I want nothing to do with her.

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