u/Rich-Cardiologist-72

Bonjour, je suis actuellement TZR et, l'année dernière, une collègue d'une autre matière que la mienne s'est invitée dans mon cours pour observer ma façon de faire cours. Je n'étais pas stagiaire, elle n'était pas ma tutrice et cette visite n'était pas planifiée. À l'administration personne ne m'en avait parlé. Elle m'a même rédigé une fiche de compte rendu dans laquelle elle précisait que je laissais mes élèves trop en autonomie alors qu'ils étaient en cours d'évaluation. Elle est revenue une seconde fois pour dire que tout se passait bien. À ce jour, je n'ai jamais compris les raisons de sa venue. Je suis titulaire, nouveau dans l'établissement. Quand je la croise épisodiquement, elle me gratifie d'un sourire qui ressemble davantage à un rictus. Comme elle a l'air d'être amie avec tout le monde et bien vue par l'administration je n'ai rien osé dire.

They want to hurt you. They want you to get bullied, humiliated, they want you to be perceived as disgusting, crazy and unlovable. They want you to be hurt. They want you to get hurt. They want you to be poor, to be homeless, to be ill, to be abused in every way, shape and form. They want your light to be turned off. They want you to die and use your death to fit their narrative of victimhood. They want you to be in toxic relationships. They want you to fail, to have no dreams, no love. They are like this famous, disturbing painting by Goya, in which you can see the God of Time devouring his child. They want you to go silent about all this. They put you in this world to be their emotional punching bag. Their spouse, the enabler, wants the same. Their only goal for both of them is their ego, their comfort, their shame.

The good news is that this classmate I knew from Junior High School and High School stopped her practise after two years. People claim that we change over time, some people, but not everyone. When we became adults, I reached out to her on Facebook in 2012. I realized this person was still the same: a narcissist. I went no contact afterwards. I learnt a few years ago that she had undergone a few weeks' training (not years, just 8 to 12 weeks). Basically, she mixed vague New Age pseudo-psychology with reading tarot cards to help clients get better energetically. I never knew that the term psychopractionner was even a thing. Her motto to advertize her office and consultations: was benevolence when she was, in fact, the most judgmental person I have ever seen and very good at gaslighting people. Where I live, work related to psychology is not regulated enough, and you have a lot of con artists who claim to be therapists with very little formal training or experience. I can't imagine what these emotional predators do to vulnerable people seeking help. I feel that a lot of narcissists go into these fields to keep on manipulating people while being paid for that.

My nmother's ritual was to text me at 11:59 PM on my birthday, as proof that she wished me a happy birthday. At this point, why even bother to text? Any people with weird narcissistic parents' birthday rituals, or killjoy behaviour?

I will start with mine: I think that Madonna has great potential as an actor, but was rarely given the right material to work on. You can't earn a Golden Globe and be a bad actor; you can't deliver a performance like in Abel Ferrara's movie and be horrible.

Tout d'abord, j'en ai assez des emprunts abusifs de l'anglais pour tout et n'importe quoi, alors que l'on pourrait recourir à des termes français. Je dis ça en tant que personne d'origine américaine par mon père, donc je n'ai rien contre la langue anglaise, au contraire.

Mais je trouve que c'est une tactique pour paraître vaguement branché ou jeune, afin de masquer la violence des rapports humains. Un date, un rendez-vous amoureux/sentimental présuppose la réciprocité, le désir, l'envie de construire quelque chose et surtout le consentement.

Or, le "job dating" c'est tout autre chose. Il n'y a pas de réciprocité: il y a un rapport vertical entre le recruteur, qui décide de votre destin, et le travailleur. Le recruteur incarne la hiérarchie, le pouvoir et le contrôle sur le travailleur en imposant ses conditions (conditions de travail, rémunération, etc.).

De plus, où est le consentement? Qui aime se réveiller à 6 h du matin et faire des heures de trajet pendant de longues heures chaque semaine pour une paye souvent minable. Peu de gens se disent : "Miam, miam, j'aime me faire exploiter, perdre du temps, être toujours limité financièrement et, en plus, vivre des rapports de domination psychologique."

Donc, je trouve ce terme de « job dating » une énième mascarade du monde du travail, destinée à dissimuler sa violence. Il donne l'impression d'une vraie découverte de l'un et de l'autre, alors que, normalement, avant un entretien, on a déjà fait ses recherches sur une compagnie, et la compagnie ne veut pas apprendre à vous connaître réellement, mais plutôt voir comment vous exploiter et tirer parti de vos aptitudes.

My narcissistic mother had no financial education whatsoever. She lived above what her income allowed and managed for my enabling father to be jobless. She never encouraged him to find a job, learn the language of the country he moved to to follow her. She never tried to push him to take any training. So we lived in a one-income household and always experienced financial insecurities due to her poor management of money and her desire to keep my enabling father financially dependent on her.

When overdrawn, she always had money for a pair of shoes, clothes, etc. When I needed anything (a new pair of glasses after wearing broken ones for six months, taped together, oversized shoes I borrowed from my father, oversized clothes I found at home), she would make a scene. As I grew older, she always wanted access to my bank account and to comment on it. She was never financially supportive when I went to university and always relied on grants and student jobs to make ends meet.

The worst part is that later on, she moved to a fancy apartment, while all my childhood and teenage years we lived in a crappy apartment. She moved shortly after I left home. She never complained about having to pay higher rent (although she falsified documents to obtain a rent voucher to pay less rent, pretending I still lived with her, which was not true). I realised, then, that I never really knew how much she earned. When I would come back here and there before I went no-contact, she always ate already-prepared fancy food she bought at the deli store, wore Gucci glasses, and had new handbags. All this during a time of my life when I didn't have enough access to food, and was skinny to a point some acquaintances thought I was anorexic. She never noticed, and when I visited her, she would only give me water. If she saw me open the fridge or take cans of food, she would make a scene.

She even came to my college dorm to see her favourite musician who was giving a concert in the city where I was studying. She bought herself expensive train tickets (never paid mine when I went to visit her), spent a lot of money on concert tickets, food, and clothing in the hope of meeting this musician and seducing him. But every time I needed something: a book, new shoes because my shoes had holes in them, etc., there was no money. Now that I think of it, I even regret not going no-contact once I left home for college.

I would have loved to see Jack and Rose stay together and confront the racism of colonial Britain. I would have loved to see Jack challenge people's stereotypes and become a rich and powerful entertainer (perhaps helping financially save D.A later on. I would have loved for Mary not to remarry and to say the hell with social conventions, to enjoy her love life as she wanted to. I would have loved to see a redemption arc for Susan and a reconciliation with Rose. Perhaps seeing Gwen going to university. See more of Rosamund's personal life, etc. What about you?

Tout d'abord, j'en ai assez des emprunts abusifs de l'anglais pour tout et n'importe quoi, alors que l'on pourrait utiliser des termes français. Je dis ça en tant que personne d'origine américaine par mon père, donc je n'ai rien contre la langue anglaise, au contraire. Mais je trouve que c'est une tactique pour être vaguement branché, ou jeune pour masquer la violence des rapports humains. Un date, un rendez-vous amoureux/sentimental présuppose la réciprocité, le désir, l'envie de construire quelque chose et surtout le consentement. Hors, le "job dating" c'est tout autre chose. Il n'y a pas de réciprocité: il y a un rapport vertical entre le recruteur qui décide de votre destin, ce recruteur incarne la hiérarchie, le pouvoir, le contrôle sur le travailleur en posant ses conditions (conditions de travail, rémunération, etc.). De plus, où est le consentement? Qui aime se réveiller à 6h00 du matin, faire du temps de trajet, pour de nombreuses heures par semaine pour une paye minable. Peu de gens se disent : "Miam, miam, j'aime me faire exploiter, perdre du temps, être toujours limité financièrement et, en plus, vivre des rapports de domination psychologique." Donc, je trouve ce terme de job dating, une énième mascarade du monde du travail pour masquer la violence de celui-ci. Il donne l'impression d'une vraie découverte de l'un et de l'autre, alors que normalement avant un entretien, on a déjà fait ses recherches sur une compagnie, et la compagnie ne veut pas apprendre à réellement vous connaître, mais voir comment ils peuvent vous exploiter et exploiter vos aptitudes. Plus largement, j'en ai assez de cette novlangue utilisée pour masquer la violence et l'hypocrisie: team building, after work. Ou renommer les postes des gens sans revaloriser les salaires. À quoi ça sert de dire "hôte de caisse" ou "technicien de surface" si la paie reste minimale et que les conditions de travail sont dures?

I have the intuition that O'Brien could have hidden the fact that she was a lesbian. In your opinion, are there any other characters that could have a hidden love life or orientation?

The other day, I realised I spent a lot of time watching YouTube videos about kittens and found it quite healing. After thinking about it, a memory came back to me from when I was 14. As I was walking with my nmom near the riverbanks of the city I used to live in, I heard tiny screams. I located the sound: it was a plastic bag with three kittens that someone had thrown. It was horrible to see. There was only one kitten that had survived. I begged my mother to take the kitten home so that we could take care of it. My nmom refused to take the kitten to a vet or do any research to know what to do about the kitten (at that time, the internet was not a thing). I decided to call the kitten Ozymandias, thinking that naming it after a powerful pharaoh of Egypt would protect it and help it survive the night. My nmom mocked my idea repeatedly, gave the kitten another name, and raised a fuss about the whole concept when the most important thing was the kitten. When I woke up the next day, I discovered coldly that my nmom and her enabling husband had buried the kitten in a shoe box. Why didn't they wake me up? Where did the burial take place? She just talked in a very stern voice and shrugged her shoulders. There are so many layers to this story that I think she just let the kitten die because she didn't want to pay for any expenses. I think that a few days later, she even bought herself new clothes and never spoke of the kitten again. I have a friend who went through a terrible depression and was hospitalised, and gave her dog to her nmom for her to take care of it. Her nmom had a house with a huge garden near the countryside and thought it would be the best place for her while she got back on her feet. However, when she went back to her nmom, she discovered that her dog had been "accidentally" poisoned by ingesting rat poison. Narcissistic parents and individuals have huge problems with animals. I think they hate them because animals are the center of attention and narcissists never want to care for others.

Here me out. I love intellectual and deep discussions; however, I also appreciate pragmatic advice I can use in my everyday life (e.g., setting healthy boundaries). Nevertheless, I have noticed after months of therapy how my therapist was pedantic, holier than thou, always right and used complex terminology to make her sound exceptional, otherworldly. Here I was talking about the narcissistic abuse I was experiencing at hand by my mother, and my therapist started to talk about phenomenology and Heiddeger. I was so dumbfounded that I told her I did not get her point. She explained it again in even more complicated terms, and I just decided to let it go. What was her purpose? This session meant nothing except word salad. I realized some therapists love to hear themself talk and self-reflect on their own words that they weaponise against you. If you don't understand, they will guilt-trip you or say you resist their divine method.

Narcissistic parents destroy your personality and try to erase your identity. They should be sent to jail for perpetuity, as they pose a danger to society. You can murder someone with words, r****e someone with words. Psychological abuse is real and destroys lives. Our legal system is archaïc and playing us wrong.

My nmother admitted she enjoyed manipulating people. She said she had tried with me for years, but it hadn't worked out (which is not true because I truly believed as a teenager that my mother loved me, even though she had her "temper"). We were sitting at a café, and I remember feeling gut punched after her confession. I never saw her the same afterwards.

Je n'ai jamais compris pourquoi on n'enseigne la philosophie que la dernière année de lycée. La philosophie devrait être enseignée dès le primaire ou au moins au collège. Les gens font une année de philosophie et hop c'est terminé. Quel est le but, la société a-t-elle peur que l'on réfléchisse trop?

I have already come across stories of people meeting at an airport, for instance. I'd love to hear about incongruous situations that led to a lifetime love story.

I would love to here some stories.

Bonjour à toutes et à tous. J'habite actuellement en HLM depuis des années. Si le loyer est peu élevé, l'appartement n'est pas en bon état et le cadre alentour est déprimant et me pèse (beaucoup de béton, des gens qui jettent des détritus par la fenêtre, des jeunes qui prennent du protoxide d'azote, beaucoup de temps perdu dans les transports, des gens qui urinent dans l'ascenseur, une école bruyante juste en face). Bref, j'aimerais partir. Le hic, c'est que l'accès au logement en Île-de-France me semble compliqué, même pour un simple studio (je n'ai pas de garants, mais un salaire stable de fonctionnaire). Soit le prix est trop élevé, soit mon dossier n'est pas assez solide par rapport à celui de personnes qui ont des garants. Que me conseillez-vous? Regarder du coin des studettes, ou économiser suffisamment en prenant mon mal en patience et acheter quelque chose (un petit appartement dans une région peu chère?)

Mine is : how did they took care of washing the clothes, the bed sheets, the cushions etc...? We never truly see the work of the launderers.