Have you ever had a conversation with someone who looked at themselves in the mirror the whole time you spoke to them? Or didn’t fully listen to what you were saying? Like everything you said was reverted back to something about them? If so, then you may have come across a narcissist. Being friends with one is difficult—but dating one is probably one of the worst things you could do to yourself.
By definition, narcissism refers to “egoism” and the psychoanalysis is defined as “a person who suffers from narcissism—deriving erotic gratification from admiration of his or her own physical or mental attributes.”
So—they literally get off on themselves. It’s a psychological obsession of self-admiration, and not only does that involve being obsessed with appearance and caring about the way they are viewed by the world around them, it also means they are obsessed with viewing the world around them in their own egotistical way. So—how can you be in love with someone who is already in love with themselves? How could you possibly want or need somebody who is already filled with so much love for themselves? The truth is, they will keep you around—because they need you. This psychological self-obsession seems as if it would be built on confidence, but it is in fact built on the insecurity of the deep void narcissists feel within themselves. So naturally, being in a relationship with a narcissist can lead to insecurity and emotional abuse for their partner. The main problem is, you can’t always tell right away.
A few years ago I was blind-sided by one. It was like the Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde effect—he was the sweetest person at first, then a few months in things started to change. Along with anger problems, he said things to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough for him. I realized his verbal abuse was a mechanism to feel better about himself. Nobody should ever make you feel any less about yourself and especially not like any less of a person than the person you love. After the few months of emotional abuse, then the abrupt separation, I’d like to thank him for everything I learned along the way.
Dear Stranger,
Thank you for never trying to be anyone but yourself. Although, I know you are a lost soul like many of us are, you never once tried to confide in me as a source for motivation or compassion. When I tried to help you, you pushed me far away. When I tried to be there for you, you took it for granted and when I tried to love you, you made sure I knew you didn’t need it.
Like abusers do, you built me up with lies to eventually break me down. You made me feel like I was the crazy one, like I was insecure, jealous, and ungrateful—as if it was an honor to be with you. Most of all, you never cared about what I had to say. Ironically enough, all I can say is thank you, because your weak abuse only made me emotionally stronger.
Like Narcissus, son of the river god Cephissus in Greek mythology where the term originated, he fell in love with his own reflection in a pool of water and lost his will to live. Because how can one enjoy a life loving the people around them when all they can think about is themselves?
When you looked into my eyes, I should have noticed that all you saw was a reflection of yourself.
