I am a narcissist.

No, this is not one of those witty articles with a sarcastic, mocking title. This is simply a confession, a story perhaps.

Psychology is a subject that has intrigued me very much. Philosophy too. I would sit and ponder over life, and people and what makes them tick for hours at end. And one person who intrigued me very much, was myself. I have always been one of those introverts who like to analyse every thought, every feeling, trying to find the ‘why’ and the path to the ‘how’. I have since learnt that over-examination leads to unhappiness. Anyway, through these continuous self examinations, I would find flaw after flaw. But I did not stop at that, I found people to blame for what I felt. And who better to blame than your parents? The blaming wasn’t without reason, I did have a somewhat unhappy childhood, and my parents were largely responsible for it, unknowingly and indeliberately perhaps, but it hurt all the same. But when I started to dwell on my misery and blame it on my parents, I began to realise that I might actually be enjoying suffering so, that I wear it like an armour. The armour works in a similar fashion to the ‘show-them-your-other-cheek' policy. What happens when you show someone your other cheek? You show them that you are above their petty fighting, that you are being magnanimous and forgiving. What you also do is confuse them, and make them feel confused, guilty, childish, and immature. You show them that you do not consider their action to be worth getting worked up over, that it is not important. The armour of misery works in a similar fashion. You try to shame people by making them believe that you suffer more than they do.

Narcissism in the common context of course means ‘an obsession with oneself, pursuit of gratification through vanity, an egoistical admiration of oneself...’. In psychology however, extreme narcissism may refer to the pathological Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) which is not limited to vanity and self appreciation.

http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2010/03/29/narcissists-who-cry-the-other-side-of-the-ego/

I have always played the victim, hiding behind my misery, wallowing in my suffering. I have always been blaming everything that goes wrong in my life on other people, even though, deep down, I was aware that it is my fault. This blaming habit has only negated any hope or desire to heal from the hurt I had felt as a child. I do it now so unconscientiously and unconsciously, that I have become a natural at it.

Most times someone criticises me, I bristle, I get angry. All the defence mechanisms go on high alert and I lash back. Every time someone hurts me or even comes close to it, I immediately hide behind my suffering, both perceived and otherwise, and hurt them back. I act very mean to them. I am like a porcupine, if they scare me, I hurt them.

When someone says they love me, I run away. I absolutely panic. I am scared of being loved. I’m scared that they will see through my façade.

The façade. It is as if everything I do is staged, a story I am waiting to tell someone. I put on a show, continuously adding to my fake identity. Those who stay for the show, I like. Those who don’t, I grow tired of, and sometimes gossip about. I feel a perverse satisfaction sometimes when they get into trouble. I still find it surprising - they could be good people, friends who I have nothing against, people I like, even, but when they are in trouble, I feel a boost in my self esteem. It is a less aggressive, a very well hidden form of bullying perhaps. I went along with it when a group of friends bullied someone, and on at least two occasions, I bullied friends of mine. It was pathetic, like bullying always is. And it was cowardly. I have always been a coward.

I crave attention. So much. I grew up neglected by one parent, and constantly, harshly disciplined by the other. I am hungry for praise, for appreciation, and love. So I sometimes exaggerate my achievements, and boast.

I have extremely low self esteem. I grew up believing I was ugly and stupid. I’ve always felt worthless, and undeserving of love. I keep everyone at a distance because I don’t want them to find out that I am not actually that interesting, creative, strong person that they think I am. I am scared my friends will realise that I am just a fraud, that I am a worthless, cowardly loser.

People with NPD don’t always change, but there is definitely hope for them to change. The most important part of that change is of course realising that they have a problem. They need to accept it and have the desire to change and be better people. Unfortunately, most often than not they will not realise this. The thing is, those who need love the most, are the ones who don’t get it most often. They are themselves responsible for this. We try to learn to love, but only drive our partners away. And when our heart breaks, we only strengthen our defences, making our NPD worse. Most of us don’t even realise we have a low self esteem because it is so well veiled in the delusion of superiority.

I have been an atheist because I believed in science instead. Now I believe that there might be some power in the universe, and in nature itself. It’s a new belief system and I am only now, gingerly, starting to explore it. Much before I decided I was an atheist though, I stopped believing in God because I couldn’t stand the idea of someone that powerful existing, someone who could decide my future, could reward me and punish me.

I have always been so painfully aware of my flaws. I have been ‘treating' myself for years. I don’t mean through drugs or anything. I just played my own counsellor. I would pretend I’m having a conversation with someone and talk about whatever was bothering me, in my mind. I started writing poetry. Somehow talking about it, or at least the illusion of talking about it, writing about it etc., helped me cope with my problem. I worked on correcting my flaws, disciplining myself, being a better person… It did work for me, at least to some extent. It helped me retain some sanity. But now, I’m starting to wonder if believing I can treat myself of NPD is one of my grandiose ideas. But I’d like to give it a try at least.

What hinders change is denial of the need to change.