Me Me Me
Reading your article, I was starting to sweat in a ‘this-is-me’ moment.
Later, reading that: “narcissism exists in a spectrum — we’re all narcissist to a smaller or larger degree”, relieved that uncomfortable feeling.
Maybe I am narcissistic, but just to a smaller degree. Then again, a narcissist would say that about herself?
Reading that those with a victim mentality tend to make everything about themselves, I finally twigged. And yeah, there’s part of me that always plays the hard-done-by-victim; the woe-is-me person with the whole world against them.
So, I’m back up there, Queen of the Narcissists now.
What brought it home to me big was when a friend at the beloved writing group I’d been in for a decade told me I was…the most self-centred woman she’d ever met in her life.
Again, being a true narcissist, I put it down to her being jealous of my ability to write non-stop for ten minutes after being given a stimulus.
Really, it was about me being a domineering shit. It had nothing to do with writing capability or talent, just my narcissism.
I expressed an interest in going with her and some others to a writing festival, even offered to pay for petrol as three of them were going in the same car. P replied cuttingly:
“We might be able to take you, but you’d need to ride in the boot or none of us would survive the journey to Sydney.”
I left the writing group after that. I still miss it terribly.
But I didn’t understand it was my behaviour that was wrong. As you said Tesia, a narcissist doesn’t always know that they are a narcissist. Even when clobbered over the head with a blunt statement that seemed like a veiled death threat, I assumed the problem was with her.
P was trying to let me know my All-About-Me behaviour had ruined the group dynamic. I had stuffed up by hogging the attention, the praise, the words, all the reading out time and all the bright ideas. I’d also arrived late and kept everyone waiting every time the book club was on. As if that wasn’t unforgivable enough, I’d made my friends feel bad enough to doubt their own ability as writers.
At it’s worst I undermined members of our collective.
I’m still in contact with a couple of members, still semi-friendly on Facebook. They still say lovely things to me about my work, as I do to them sometimes. I can’t ever make amends for that one. But, I can do better at home with my own family.
That’s my intention for today anyway.
Still feeling rotten, hopefully I can gag myself from speaking before one of those I love has finished talking. Maybe I can nod and smile or give a giggle and wait for them to ask what I think, rather than having it all-about-Therese.
My golden crown has toppled. I am cowed. It’s not before time.
