Have you heard of Edward Everett? He gave the other Gettysburg Address. The one before Lincoln gave the real one. He spent weeks researching military reports so he could re-create the battle step by step. He drew comparisons to the war between the states and war in Greek antiquity.
It was said his two hour speech moved the crowd to tears.
I'm thinking they needed to take a leak and were hemmed in by the throngs of people craning to hear.
Lincoln stepped up and delivered a 272 word speech he drafted riding the train out from DC. He never mentioned Gettysburg, the Union, or slavery.
In one of the many books devoted entirely to his three minute speech, it was said that Lincoln transcended historical particulars and wove a spell that has yet to be broken.
Motivational speakers stick in my craw. They are about one nauseating click off the tripe I read on Daily Strength. I hear them and feel just as patronized. These guys are not speaking to me. They are talking to the thirty year old virgin who has a cot in his mothers basement and his father buried in the crawl space of her pier and beam.
Imagine being liberated from the concentration camp at Auschwitz, and instead of some hot food they gave you a hug told you that a smile is the light in your window that tells others that there is a caring sharing person inside.
My slogan would be, "If I could transport myself through fiber optics, I would choke the living shit out of you and shove your $499 ten CD issue of living life large up your fat ass.
It's not that I am against positive daily affirmation. It's the other 59 butt numbing minutes I can do without.
That and paying $250 to burn the living shit out of my feet. I did that for free at the BBQ last fourth of July.
The problem with applying slogan mentality to the war with our narcissist is that slogans are band aids that allow us to live a horrible life for one more day. It allows us to confuse motion with action. It allows us to continue a life no one else would tolerate for a second.
No one is walking in your shoes but you. Not your siblings. Not your confidants at work. And surely not some platitude spouting, quick fix for all that ails you cash register jockey.
No one, and I mean no one, knows what it is like to live under the yoke of narcissism.
Except someone who has.
It's not going to get better.
Quit while you are ahead.