…’
Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.
In Sam Vaknin’s terms, a classic cerebral narcissist. If he had been around today, Watson would be declaring to the world that he was a victim of narcissistic emotional abuse.
It’s on this last, perhaps most practical, aspect that this book focuses, but it will touch on all the other areas in the process. Narcissism is anathema to relationships, which by their very nature cannot revolve around one ‘self’. Even in its milder everyday forms, narcissism can cause annoyance that may escalate into larger problems with relationships at home and work. At the more extreme end, it may be ruining your life.
So what effect is narcissism having on you? Read on, and the next chapter will try and help you find out.
Is there a narcissist in your life?
Sonia: ‘I love you, Alan.’
Alan Partridge: ‘Thanks a lot!’
I’M ALAN PARTRIDGE
BY STEVE COOGAN, ARMANDO IANNUCCI
AND PETER BAYNHAM, 2002
Let’s cut to the chase. Is your life being ruined by a narcissist? Let’s look at how narcissism manifests itself in our love lives and elsewhere. Could your partner, friends, relations or work colleagues be narcissistic?
Or, more unnervingly, could you be narcissistic? I pose that as a passing point, because if you really were a narcissist you probably wouldn’t be reading this. You would have either binned this book already, or concluded that it didn’t apply to you – but maybe to your friends and lovers instead. Self-delusion is one of the strongest traits of the true narcissist – the image they have created around themselves renders them largely impervious to self-analysis or criticism. So the main object of this chapter is not to crack the protective shell of genuinely narcissistic personalities. It’s really meant as a way of spotting the narcissists around us. But, at the same time, some of us with milder narcissistic traits may recognise something of ourselves in the characteristics described here. If you do, don’t call the men in white coats – at least, not for the time being.
Because that’s something we’ve got to bear in mind from the start. Not all narcissists are monsters. In some people this tendency to self-obsession is relatively mild, still allowing other people in. In others, it’s severe because the demands of the self are so great that they become hugely problematic.
Propping up one’s all-important self-esteem involves creating fantasies about one’s own worth, achievements and looks. It requires using other people to reflect glory and worth. The true narcissist needs other people only in so far as they can support their own fantasy image of themselves.
Some psychoanalysts and writers1 make a distinction between ‘healthy narcissism’ and ‘unhealthy narcissism’, with the unhealthy narcissist someone who, no matter what their age, has not yet developed socially or morally, and the healthy narcissist being someone who has a real sense of self-esteem that can enable them to leave their imprint on the world, but who can also share in the emotional life of others.
That may be a bit of an abrupt distinction, but it’s worth bearing in mind. For the rest of this book, I’ll try to give an indication of which end of the continuum we’re talking about, by referring to ‘people with narcissistic traits’ at the milder end, ‘narcissists’ towards the middle of the spectrum, and ‘narcissistic personalities’ at the more extreme end. It’s an inexact science – in fact, it’s not science at all – but it at least conveys the fact that in some people narcissistic traits are all-consuming, and in others they’re not.
Once we begin to recognise narcissistic traits, in ourselves and others, the possibility opens up of beginning to understand previously confusing, and even demeaning, situations. And understanding is the first step to resolving.
Let’s start by introducing you to a narcissist called John, recalled by former girlfriend Rosie in her own words. What Rosie has to say demonstrates exactly how narcissists wheedle their way into our hearts, but also how they drive us to distraction.
I’d grown up reading Wuthering Heights and my romantic ideal was Heathcliff – someone who was volatile and made big gestures. In my teens, my boyfriends were very dull – I thought at the time they’d all become accountants, and actually I was right. I started going out with John when I was nineteen and just starting at art college. I was very idealistic and wanted something real, wanted to be with people who really lived and did real things – though ironically, in the end, that all turned out to be rather false.
John was exciting because his social background was far less privileged than my own, which meant there was something rebellious about going out with him. But he also made me feel the most special person in the world. That’s how narcissists get hold of you and keep you. I was made to feel special with incredible letters and poems, and little thoughtful things like him remembering everything I said I liked, and then weeks, possibly months later, buying them as presents. I mentioned that I used to collect hippos as a child, and he went out and bought as many toy and model hippos as he could find. And I heard from mutual friends that he talked about me admiringly all the time, which was very flattering.
John was very good-looking, and lots of people flocked around him adoringly, and others wanted to be his girlfriend, and that made me feel very special.
He kept on saying that I would never have another relationship like this – and I felt that too. The trouble was, I came to realise that this was his way of keeping me emotionally tied in with him at the times when his erratic and sometimes cruel behaviour was making things impossible for me. He was breeding a kind of dependence that was impossible to live with, because you were constantly up and down according to his whims. He would take up a persona and totally live it, and then move on to something else – one week he’d be into chill music, and the next he’d be totally immersed in hip hop. Everything was always extreme, and at the beginning that was very attractive.
But it was complete attention-seeking. We lived in the same student house, and one day a girlfriend from home came to see me, but John refused to meet her. He locked himself in the bedroom and refused to come out. He’d just sneak out when he needed to use the bathroom or get something to eat, but he wouldn’t see me until she’d gone, and wouldn’t say why he was doing it. He had to be the centre of attention.
And sometimes he had to humiliate me too. He’d have these depressions, where he wouldn’t eat anything or talk. He said that if I left his side, he didn’t know what he’d do – so of course, I’d stay with him for days on end, during which time he’d be just vile to me. Once John got really angry – I can’t remember what it was about, but I think he felt that I was neglecting him, or hadn’t understood him. He punched a wall. What was interesting was that he was right-handed, and he punched the wall with his left – it was obviously considered, rather than impulsive, and he was careful not to hit himself somewhere that mattered. And he made a point of doing it in my student house, while all my friends were around.
I’ve read about narcissism since, and I think narcissists