A man diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder explains how living with NPD is very different from what one might expect.
I am a narcissist. Or, rather, I have been “officially” diagnosed with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I put that in quotes because it is not the first diagnosis I have received; however, I can say that it is by far the most appropriate. Of course, the popular concept of what a narcissist looks like is actually quite different from the reality of a person with NPD. It is true that “pure” narcissists are every bit the arrogant, blindly self confident, self-centered, and manipulative individuals that most people fear. With that said, there are numerous other subtypes for people with NPD that do not fit this mold, many of which are almost completely opposite of what most people expect a narcissist to be. I can only speak for myself, but I hope that understanding how it affects the way I view the world will make others less hostile.
There are many factors that go into developing a mental illness, but in my case, a truly nightmarish childhood pushed me over the edge. Abuse of all kinds—neglect, tragedy, poverty—you name it, and I experienced it as a child. I was—and still am—extraordinarily gifted; however, lack of appropriate nurturing and care as a child resulted in coping mechanisms that were less than healthy. For example, the severe neglect and either complete dismissal or punishment for being anything less than perfect left a feeling of worthlessness.
When you get a 92% on an exam as a 10-year old who skipped a grade and are asked, “What went wrong?” you learn to adapt and praise yourself. Empty self-praise does not come close to filling the hole where actual self-worth should be, but as a child starved for praise and attention for my accomplishments, I learned to feed myself. Because I was so gifted, I was expected to be perfect by teachers, my mother—everyone. Anything less was worthless.
Malignant perfectionism is one of the other primary facets of NPD. This idea that anything less than perfect was worthless was seared into my mind. Not perfect? Unlovable. Terrible. Disgusting. Repugnant. I used all these words to describe myself regularly. What began as a healthy desire to improve became an unhealthy need to be perfect in every way, or appear to be perfect to others.
And so a character was born. When I was beginning of high school, we moved to New York City, and I was able to lie about major facts of my life. I needed to control my image so that other people wouldn’t see me as the worthless, unlovable, grotesquely flawed individual that I was. If the real me was so repulsive that even the people who were supposed to provide unconditional love couldn’t be bothered to show any affection, why would anyone else? Compulsive lying became the norm. To this day, I still sometimes lie about completely random things for no reason whatsoever. Anything I could control, I did.
I developed an obsession with being perfectly dressed, from making sure that my shoelaces were all perfectly flat with perfect bows, to ensuring that just the right amount of cuff peeked out from beneath my sweater. I would not leave the house until every detail was perfect. I wouldn’t turn around on the street if I walked past where I was going, because I didn’t want to look like I made a mistake. I would walk around four blocks to make sure that no one could witness my blunder.
I am able to turn around now; however, I feel so much shame that I will feel physically ill. This obsessive need to be perfect prevented me from asking questions in school—it would show people I didn’t know something; it prevents me from practicing languages with native speakers—I don’t want to sound like an amateur; I won’t play a piece of music unless it is perfect, and I will never practice in front of someone. I hide my learning and improvement from the world, because revealing any imperfections would leave me open to certain rejection and reinforce my worthlessness … or so I believe.
My relationship with rejection is completely out of sync with reality. This is all quite easy to understand from an intellectual/logical perspective, but knowing something and feeling something are two very different things. Any rejection or perceived rejection—and I’m hyper-vigilant to spot any potential rejection—is crushing. When you believe you are completely worthless, any “no” or rejection isn’t a simple thing—it is an emphatic statement that you have absolutely no value as a human being. It doesn’t have to be anything of consequence, it can be something as simple as asking to borrow a pen.
Me: “May I borrow a pen?”
Other person: ”No, I need it.”
No big deal, right? Not to me. I hear, “No, because you are worthless and have absolutely no value as a human being.” Having to ask a direct question where someone can say no or reject me creates profound levels of anxiety, and it quickly spirals out of control. Any rejection results in a truly savage tirade against myself. Normal people probably don’t think, “Of course they said no, because you’re worthless. Just like every time you were rejected as a kid. There’s a reason people say no to you. Haven’t you learned not to ask for things? You are such a dumb, worthless, piece of trash. Kill yourself.”
Intellectually, I know that’s not a normal emotional response to being told no for a basic request. This hyper-sensitivity would be even worse if I put myself out there socially and in relationships, but I don’t because there can be no certainty. I can’t bring myself to take the risk of being rejected on such a personal level. In eighth grade, I had a friend of the girl I had a crush on come up and tell me, “So-and-so wants you to know that she really likes you.” Even with such a clear indication that someone liked me, I didn’t do anything, because I knew it had to be a trick. How could she like me? Not even my mother likes me. She must be tricking me.
I’ve adapted to my fear of rejection by avoiding asking direct questions. I don’t manipulate people out of malice or to get something out of them, but to intentionally avoid situations where I can be told no or be rejected. It is easier to make them think they are doing something for me of their own volition than for me to ask and risk them saying no. With that said, I also will never say no to any request by anyone else. I habitually do other things for other people in an attempt to build up “request equity” in case I have to ask something of them.
I will ALWAYS do whatever anyone asks, and I will remember everything that I do for every person. I assume that if I do X, Y, and Z for Billy, then when I need something and ask for it, he will remember all the things I did for him and say yes. Keeping a mental ledger of every single request I’ve fulfilled and every single request I’ve made with every single person I am in regular contact with is an immense waste of brainpower. In a sense, I don’t do things for other people to be nice; I do them to make sure that if I ever need anything they are happy to help.
As a consequence of living life as a character at center stage with the whole world watching, I don’t have many close relationships. The amount of time it takes for me to actually start letting someone know anything about the real me generally prevents me from having real relationships. They know the character I play, but the real me is kept chained in the dark recesses of my mind. Having the character I play get rejected is bad enough, but revealing my real self and exposing my incredible fragility could very well be a matter of life and death. There are three people who know the real me, and I still cannot comprehend why they still associate with me. I have extreme difficulty believing them when they tell me they value my friendship and view me as a strong person with worthwhile accomplishments. How can someone like the real me when the very thought of it makes me sick?
Even though they know the real me, I am unable to make a real emotional connection. Twice in the past 13 years, I have made a physical and emotional connection with someone, and it felt like my soul was being torn asunder. I bawled uncontrollably, the emotion pouring out until I was physically unable to move. And beneath the dull, hollow ache that I feel at all times, there is the swirling maelstrom of agony waiting to be unleashed.
Even if by some miracle I manage to find a woman who is willing to date me, I feel confident it will only last until the first feelings of affection. At that point, I will once again become a revolting, blubbering mess.
In the end, chances are good that I will remain alone, as I have been for so long; the aching emptiness will remain. Love is food for the soul, and I have been starved forever.
Read more from the special section on mental illness
Photo credit: Flickr / Jake Putnam
About Anonymous
People with NPD are generally painted as monsters. This was even demonstrated in the previous article by QRG about narcissism where people were saying how NPD is synonymous with evil. It is no surprise that this was posted anonymously and I see how the popular view of NPD can really shut down any productive debate. No one wants people to think they’re a monster.
I believe I was one of those people. My deepest apologies. I see so much of me in your description. No wonder I have such a strong reaction. Maybe you can only truly hate what you know. Keep fighting and keep learning.
thanks alot for sharing your thoughts amazing article
Thank you.
I’ve not been officially diagnosed, but I share so many of your fears and compulsions. I’m a hermit, forced, by my uncontrollable fear, which manifests into a need to seem and be the epitome of perfection, to be neither seen or heard from, unless I feel I can have enough control over I’m perceived. I generally visit the people who call me “friend” once or twice a year and never invite anyone over. My friends and family say that they miss me and love me, but they don’t even know the me behind the mask. I can’t even imagine finding happiness that does not involve a distinct and define role for me to fill — like a character in a play.
Additionally, your insight about empty self-praise versus self-worth really resonates with me.
The Narcissistic Personality Disorder is actually being phased out. It will be removed from the DSM in 2013: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/30/health/views/30mind.html
It sounds like you also have a case of OCD with perfectionism, and low self-esteem. You don’t sound terrible for a narcissist! You’re very self-aware of your own issues (maybe part of your therapy?) — this is a positive outcome; compared to the people who are in denial, refusing help or introspection. Instead of recognizing they have a problem, some of these people think that you are just jealous and threatened by them. LOL. Truly narcissistic and delusional! They have this grandiose air to them, which I can’t detect in your writing…I know you say that you put out an image, but I think it’s more OCD than narcissism.
The worst narcissists, I think, are the ones who behave with malice; they don’t believe in “request equity”; they believe that others should cater to their every whim; they see themselves as superior and they are MANIPULATIVE to their very core. These are people who could use a brain transplant and ought to never be in position of authority or power — they only care about themselves, and get ahead at the expense of others. (Sounds a lot like Wall Street bankers here…lol.)
Despite all the personal details shared in this story that let us “know” the author, I’m a bit shocked that anyone would offer a re-diagnosis in the comments. I can’t speak for him, but considering everything the author has said here, this comment seems barbed with rejection triggers. Some of the symptoms of his NPD might be obsessive, but I would disagree that this means he has OCD and isn’t narcissistic.
Completely as an aside, and not directed at you, MichelleG, or at the author, I’m a little annoyed by the cavalier use of OCD these days. I hear a lot of people (curiously, mostly women) say things like “Oh, I’m so OCD, if my desk isn’t perfectly straight or if the toilet paper roll is ‘over’ not ‘under’ or the bed’s not made…etc. etc., take your pick of neuroses…I freak out.” I think when people start using OCD as an adjective to describe their little quirks and preferences, it’s disrespectful to the experience of someone who is truly obsessive-compulsive to the point that it has a significant and disruptive impact on their day-to-day life. There’s a difference between having a routine/habit and being obsessive-compulsive about it. *sarcasm* I compulsively fix people’s shirts when the tag is sticking out – I must be OCD! */sarcasm*
Michelle,
There are such a thing as altruistic narcissists… I have known a few and was raised by one. One can be narcissistic (still a form of ‘childhood brokenness’) and not be trying to be malicious, but just come across as self-absorbed, and oblivious as to how their actions affect others, even feeling the rules of the world don’t apply to them. But still have a heart… of course there is a heart… it’s what the Narcissism was developed as a coping mechanism to hide the pain of… The saddest part is their own hurting hearts is what makes them so damaged, and damaging. It makes my heart hurt for the author, and all of us hurt as children, Narcs or not. ~Chris
To Have Or To Be?
by Erich Fromm
“To be an egoist refers not only to my behavior but to my character. It means: that I want every-thing for myself, that possessing, not sharing, gives me pleasure; that I must become greedy because if my aim is having, I am more the more I have; that I must feel antagonistic toward all others: my customers whom I want to deceive, my competitors whom I want to destroy, my workers whom I want to exploit. I can never be satisfied, because there is no end to my wishes; I must be envious of those who have more and afraid of those who have less. But I have to repress all these feelings in order to represent myself (to others as well as to myself) as the smiling, rational, sincere, kind human being everybody pretends to be.”
Thank you for sharing this. Like you, I grew up in an abusive family, and I can assure you that you will find that the rest of the world is much more accepting of your beautiful flaws. The irony here is that Lying will drive people away from you and revealing vulnerability, though difficult, fosters intimacy and is well worth it
. However, I have to agree with Michelle, in that a true narcissist would already know this and be using their own “vulnerability” to manipulate others.
Thank you for being so honest and brave in sharing this story. I know (and have loved) several people afflicted with this disorder.
This was enlightening for to me to read. I have repeatedly found myself in work relationships with narcissistic male bosses, and have not been able to understand why. I gleaned from this article that they are attracted to me as an employee because I have very high standards of appearance and performance for myself . While my drive and flawless-looking performance are how I respond to racism and sexism in my field (twice as good, half as far) , I’m sure I must feel terribly *familiar* — like family — to someone with an injury that results in narcissism. And no wonder they responded to me as someone whom they resented but needed to please, instead of as their subordinate.
This essay will help me avoid repeating this mutually painful work relationship , as well as to be more compassionate toward some badly behaved guys I used to work for.!
Such a generous and compassionate response. How lovely! To the author: what a brave article. Many good thoughts to you on your journey to improved mental health.
I thank you for sharing in your own words because you put into words almost exactly the likely feelings of someone I know. Last year I dated a guy who had most of the characteristics of NPD. There were some lovely moments, but after a period, the way he treated me made me hate myself. Whatever afflicts those with NPD also affects those around them. I believe people can change because I’ve gotten over a lot in my own life. If you can analyze why you feel a certain way and why you behave as you do (as you have done), you can do something about it.
I don’t believe you are a narcissist. I’m very surprised that you were officially diagnosed as one. Too much conscience in your post, too much self-awareness. One or both your parents were narcissists. You are the victim of a narcissist.
Being triggered when physical and emotional love comes near into a weeping bawling mess is also indicative of PTSD aspects. The original trauma is being relived. Somewhere in that horror of suffering may be the keys to freedom. I’ve been where you have been. Some 27 years of effort has taken me to the bowels of the actual wound and the healing and liberation is happening. Unless you are a full blown sociopath, which you are not, the door is never locked. But the brain rewiring and release of the original emotional pain comes from chipping away little by little, until the soul, heart and mind reorients to wholeness. Really it is just a sliding scale with labels. Sociopath at one end and empathetic human at the other. You also sound like a *BPD. I related to BPD, NPD, PTSD. I was never a sociopath, although I was so disassociated until I was 28 I could not feel empathy even though I cared. By 33 I had cracked open enough to feel good connectivity and empathy. It’s all trauma based. It really hurts to release the pain. I won’t deny it. Anguish. Heartbreak. Rage. Rage is a good key when accessed in a controlled and safe environment. You need to be safe. A great book I have read on the journey is: Humanising the Narcissistic Style by Stephen M. Johnson. People heal. Love and peace of mind can be yours. Never ever give up. I am sending you hope.