This is What Narcissism Looks Like
This project is about the most stressful breakup I’ve ever been through, mostly comprised of copy/pasted communications intended to be read (and listened to) all the way through to the end. Take as many sessions as you need to finish, but trust me, the ending’s worth it.
Also, because of the people involved, this project happens to be a reflection on narcissism.
I see narcissism as a form of addiction. Specifically, addiction to something like attention, recognition, and esteem.
I started this project in early January 2019 as a way to process my breakup with K****, my live-in partner of over a year. I’d recognized a lot of narcissistic traits in K**** while we were together, but only pieced them together under the banner of “narcissism” (and specifically “vulnerable narcissism”*) after we’d already broken up, with their post-breakup communications seeming to confirm my very amateur assessment.
If nothing else, I wanted the project to be a way for other people dealing with narcissism in their lives to be able to recognize its signs and do something about it.
But.
Then I came across the book Toxic Parents. It’d been on my radar as a possible tool for processing a lot of the shit I went through as a kid, so I finally started reading it one day. Looking at the chapter headings, I’d assumed that the chapter about alcoholism would be the least relevant to my life, since neither of my parents had been substance abusers. But upon actually reading the chapter, I found out that the dynamic in families with an alcoholic parent was exactly the dynamic we’d had in my family. Only instead of chemical dependency, I’d recently recognized my dad as having many of the DSM’s symptoms of narcissism.
Bam.
Suddenly all of K****’s behavior made sense. You see, one of the common understandings about narcissists is that they’re devoid of empathy. But there were many times when my dad and K**** both had displayed more genuine empathy towards me than many other people in my life. So it wasn’t that they were completely devoid of empathy. The key was whether or not they’d gotten their baseline dose of esteem or attention or recognition. Until that happened, not only could they not tune in to the needs of those around them, but they were often incredibly volatile towards whomever or whatever they viewed as getting in their way.
Addiction also explained why narcissists seemed to often get diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. Both my dad and K**** had been diagnosed with bipolar at certain points, but as far as I could tell, K**** was never once in a manic state while I was with them. Maybe something like a mild one popped up here or there, but nothing like any behaviors I’ve had pointed out to me as genuine bipolar mania. But what if we applied the lens of addiction?
Imagine you’re a psychologist, and you’re familiar with bipolar disorder, but you’ve never heard of alcoholism, and you don’t even know to look at alcohol consumption patterns as a thing. How would you diagnose an alcoholic? Sometimes they’re happy, sometimes they’re sad, sometimes they’re insanely confident, sometimes they’re angry, all within hours or even minutes of each other, with no obvious cause. What else could possibly make sense of that behavior besides bipolar disorder?
I’d argue that the same pattern holds true for narcissists. Attention, recognition, and esteem are soothing mechanisms for them, in much the same way that alcohol is a soothing mechanism for the alcoholic: it’s simply a way to ease the general pain of their existence and get them to a baseline functioning level. And just like other addicts will often ignore the needs of the people around them for the sake of getting their fix, or will see the people around them simply as tools for feeding their addiction, so too with narcissists and their focus on attention and recognition and esteem; it’s effective in the short term but frequently destructive in the long run.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. The situation doesn’t have to be hopeless. Personally, I feel for every narcissist I’ve ever known, even if I know I can’t have them in my life.
And I hope this project helps change not only the conversation about narcissism but the lives of narcissists and those that love them.
Things to note:
The fact that this project has something like a narrative arc, complete with rising and falling action and a definite conclusion, is a convenient accident. For the overwhelming majority, I’ve simply copied and pasted exact communications or notes, leaving in otherwise irrelevant bits and even my own less-than-saintly remarks. I did, however, add minimal commentary to describe significant unrecorded events, removed any personally identifying information about the people involved, and edited K****’s pronouns to keep them gender neutral throughout.
Also, it helps to know that I’m polyamorous (not monogamous), and that that’s how the relationship between me and K**** started.
K**** had already been dating A**** for a year to a year and a half when K**** and I started dating, with everyone involved knowing about and being okay with that dynamic. I was crashing on their couch at the time, and A**** was actually the one who offered to let me live with them long term. Within a few months, K**** and A**** had broken up, while K**** and me stayed together, but all of us kept living with each other and stayed good friends until we moved to different cities.
In Seattle, I started hitting it off with one of K****’s coworkers, R*****. She was recently divorced (like me) and had grown up in an abusively religious household (also like me), and there was pretty strong physical chemistry from the start. We officially started dating a week before all the shit you’re about to read went down. This was completely above board; I started talking with K**** about R***** as soon as I started getting a crush on her, and they were honestly cool with all of it.
* Many psychologists distinguish between “grandiose” and “vulnerable” narcissists. Grandiose narcissists are the stereotypical “I’m God’s gift to the universe” narcissists. They’re obnoxiously confident. Not so with vulnerable narcissists. Vulnerable narcissists are more likely to have high anxiety and to alter their behaviors to get others to like them. Regardless, though, the focus is on their image and esteem, and their need for recognition and attention is a major driving force in their lives.
Also, if you’re familiar with adult attachment styles, my working theory is that grandiose narcissists tend to be dismissive-avoidant, while vulnerable narcissists tend to be anxious-preoccupied. It’s just that their attachment styles alone don’t account for all of their relationship behaviors.
